On March 20, Peter and I headed east over Teton Pass and then south, with the goal of being in my hometown, ASAP. Leaving Pinedale about 8 p.m, I learned that my mom, Eileen Uphoff, had quietly passed away there in Cheyenne while my sister Judy held her hand.
I wrote about it then, but can’t seem to find words to talk about the blur of the last half-year — filled with some good trips, reconnecting with friends and family, a lot of introspection — and I wonder if there’s any reason to write, right now.
I wish I had something profound to say, to boast of some over-arching lesson learned. But as a critical review of a book by Frank McCourt was once headlined in the New York Times: “‘Tis — T’ain’t.”
No smart words, nothing insightful to offer the world. Just that I still really miss my mother and although I’m comforted by the idea that my parents are together again (“somewhere, out there,” as that old song goes), it doesn’t negate the loss I feel, selfish child that I (still) am.
This is one of my favorite photos with my mom, at a Cheyenne Frontier Days Parade in 1999.