A weekend of big emotions

This weekend marks the anniversary of both my mother's birth and John Lennon's murder. Tomorrow, my mom's house will be sold at a foreclosure auction.

I remain very sad and angry that John was murdered by a nut who got his hands on a handgun. In New York. When rock scholars point out that if John had stayed in London he might be alive today, I can only shake my head in sorrow and agree with them.

How my mom loved that stupid suburban ranch house! I think she'd be disappointed and embarrassed (my mom was always concerned with what "they" thought of her) that it's being sold at auction. And yet, she entered into the reverse mortgage knowing this was the likely outcome. I can't let myself feel guilty about the way this worked out. That would be infantalizing both of my parents. My dad was a terrible businessman and, true 1950s housewife she was, my mom blindly trusted his judgement. When he died, he left her nothing but debts. I took care of my mother's medical bills and insurance in life and her funeral in death. I can't let myself feel bad for the consequences of decisions they made as clear-eyed (but naive) adults.

And yet, with all this swirling around me, I'm not unhappy today. It's Christmastime, after all! And besides, I'm watching all the celebrations of Nelson Mandela's life. One child brought a picture he'd drawn for "Father." There seems to be easily as much dancing and singing as there are tears.

And that's how I feel about my mom right now. She's in Heaven, no longer besieged with worry about debt or what "they" think. That's something to celebrate!

Besides, like Mandela, my mother lived her entire life and died of natural causes. That's why I'm still pissed about John. Because while statistics tell us that gun violence in Chicago is down this year, it's still too prevalent, too ugly and too easily preventable.