"Welcome to the club", he said, his eyes cast down, a look of sadness falling over him. "None of us want to be in it", he said, "but only those in the club know how it feels." 

I didn't want to be in this club, but here I find myself, sitting, and thinking. Thinking about how I got here, how I knew the day would come, but never really knew it would arrive. Thinking about things I hadn't thought of in years, things that seem like they happened only yesterday, yet are decades removed. 

In my mind's eye I can still see her. Yesterday, as I did yard work, my dad sat outside talking to me, and I could still see her standing in the window, as she'd always do. She'd stand there and watch me, after she was no longer able to come outside and keep me company. I remember when she came out to offer her "expert advise" on what I should do.

There was never a shortage of opinions. She always had tips and suggestions when you were undertaking a project. "You know what you should do, you should transplant this bush and put it over there by the deck." That's easy for you to say, I thought, I'm the one doing all the digging. But, she was right. It was too pretty to waste. I transplanted that bush. It turns out, I cut the root ball too short, and it needed a lot of attention. She spent the rest of their visit watering it multiple times a day to keep it alive. And, she did. The woman was literally, ok figuratively, a force of nature. And, until the day I moved out, she always wanted to know how "our bush" was doing. It would bloom into this beautiful flaming pattern each spring. Today, I miss it. I hadn't thought about that bush when we moved, but it's the thing I'll miss most about that house now, because it was "our bush." 

The memories come swirling back, it's only been a few weeks, and they creep in at the oddest times. The simplest things can knock you back a step, like you just walked into a stiff jab you didn't see coming. Today, they make you feel sadness, but you smile through the tears because you were loved. 

For over twenty years I would drive home to visit, when I wasn't flying, and every time I left she stood outside, or in the window and watched me, until I was out of sight. When I flew, she'd stay at the gate until my plane was gone (back when you could do such a thing). But, when I drove, I could look in the rear view mirror and see her standing there, my father always by her side. Because, you see, for 53 years where you saw one, you saw the other. On Saturday April 16, it was I who stood where she did for years,  watching her slowly go down the street, around the curve, and out of sight forever. 

"Welcome to the club", he said. "No one ever wants to join, because now your mother is in heaven."