So, I’m at the regular meeting spot on the appointed day and the appointed time and there’s no mom. Two weeks ago I missed our meeting because I threw my back out. As is our agreement if either of us misses a meeting, I came to meet her same place, same time, same day. No mom then. Here’s the second time in a row she’s missed, when the only time in the last two years when she’s missed a meeting is when she fell and was hospitalized.
And as I write this, I wonder why I haven’t started calling hospitals yet. I think I’m a bad daughter. I wonder if I should and, yes, I should. I wonder if I will. I have so much work to do. I’m a freelancer, if I don’t work I don’t get paid and I’m in enough financial insecurity.
She has my phone number, I think to myself. She’ll call me if she feels like it. But if she’s lost the number or had her things stolen, she’ll need me to make the move.
So, it’s time to call the hospitals again, the police, the morgue. I don’t know how I’m going to do this again.
Originally published at Dooley M.