My mom, Virginia Tomlinson, died a year ago today. The schedule of my book tour happened to send us down to my home ground in south Georgia over the weekend, and so on the drive back home we stopped by the cemetery in Brunswick. I hadn’t been down since the funeral. Her grave marker was in place, clean and solid, next to my dad’s.
She got to read an early draft of the book. She liked it except for two things. One, there are too many cuss words. Two, if she had known I drank so much in college, she wouldn’t have sent me any money. (Totally fair.) I wish she could’ve been around for these past couple of weeks, as the book has landed out in the world, and so many people have told me how much they enjoyed reading the parts about her. She would’ve gotten a kick out of that.
I go back out on the road this week, and I know one thing will happen: Every time I get to a new place, and every time I get back home, my reflex will be to pick up the phone and call her, to tell her I made it there all right. I don’t know how long it’ll be before that reflex fades. I hope it never does.
— TT
6 replies on “Thinking about my mom”
Excellent, lovely piece as always.
I can tell you Granny would like to know that people enjoyed what she said and did, the stances she took, and her always keen sense for decorating to please the masses. But most of all I can tell you that she would be tickled pink, that her boy was realizing his dreams in so many ways. She would be happy that he has written a book and achieved some acclaim. She would be happy that her boy has attributed his success to all those along the way who planted seed in his narrative field. She would be happy that her boy is figuring out how to lose the weight. But most of all, she would be happy that her boy is finding a way to bury issues that have kept him from all these things in the past. She is as happy as a lark and I know she wants you to be as well. Today Granny’s message for you is concentrate on naming your new radio station, because USUCK-FM is off the air.
LUV U LITTLE TOMMY
It was years before I stopped thinking Mama would have laughed, liked, or gotten mad aboutsomething on a daily basis. It is now down to once a month. However, not a day goes by that I don’t think of both my Mom and Dad. And on those days when the memories are so clear, I feel their love. Your Mom is with you always. It is the one true thing I know.
Tommy, we never lose the inclination to phone our mothers. My grandmother frequently bemoaned the fact that she was unable to speak with her mother who had died in 1939. I lost my mom almost 20 years ago and still thinking of calling her every day. Love never dies.
Well Tommy, I can do nothing but read your book. I just wanted you to know I love it. To be able to be so brutally honest I’m not sure I could do that. What I really want to say is I admire you as a person and a writer and weight has nothing to do with it.
Hey Tommy,
I lost my dad three years ago almost (May 12, 2016) and I literally feel your pain. The reflex still hasn’t faded for me so don’t count on it happening any time soon. I love that she was able to read your book, and that you lived long enough to write it. Hang in there.