Saturday, April 5, 2014

A day

One month ago today, March 5th at 9:10 a.m., my life forever changed as a part of me departed this world. It changed me. How could it not?
Despite knowing my mother's health was declining, despite watching her struggle to breathe, despite sitting with her in hospice, clutching her hand in mine, it was a shock. A numbing shock. I still cannot believe she is gone.
My mother is dead, my mother is dead, my mother is dead. I never verbalized these words, but they rolled around inside my head making a horrible racket like marbles in a bucket, making me want to scream. 
I am more contemplative, more serious, more quiet, more tired. Exhausted. Even now, writing these words, a wave of nausea flows through me.
She hadn't yet passed the first time I thought of calling her. We took Little Bee swimming and she swam for two and a half hours. Natalie and I were walking down the hall, hand in hand, when I thought I need to call Mother and tell her about Natalie swimming. Then it occurred to me- I will never call her again. I have thought about calling her to tell her what is going on several times since.  We've had torrential rains this past week and flooding. Mother always watched the weather here and would call me to make sure I was o.k.
Last night a friend came from out of town and was my overnight guest. We ate out last night, we came home, changed into comfy clothes, I made a fire and we talked.
This morning, hair disheveled and eyeliner smudged, we sat, wearing pajamas, drinking coffee and talking.  I laughed. I yelled. I carried on.
We talked and talked and talked. She listened as I went back to the subject repeatedly - "mother this, mother that, since we've lost mother..."
We ate good food-delicious food and consumed some excellent beers.
Today, we drove from Bloomington to Nashville, Indiana and walked a bit. Then we drove the back roads and hills and through mud, with the windows down and sunroof open. We were silent. We breathed in the smells of spring, of earth bursting forth with fronds and green and sprouting and growth. We got a little lost and found our way again.
And I felt more like me than I have in months.
Today was a day. It was a good day.


farmlady said...

Sometimes a good friend is the only thing we need to make the sadness move away from our heart for a while.
I'm so sorry that your Mom is gone. It's been four years now, since my mother passed and there are still times when I want to pick up the phone and talk to her.
The sadness will leave and good memories will come instead. Give yourself time. It's the only thing that helps... and good friends.


I am sorry to hear about your loss. I am glad you were able to spend time with a friend and that you had a good day. Grief takes time. Let the memories sustain you.

Sandy, Sisters of Season said...

Dearest Cheryl, I'm so sorry to hear about the loss of your wonderful Mom. Grief moves at it own speed, for some it quicker than others. Your Mom has cross over and really is living in full health again. Faith definitely plays a strong role here . . . believe that :O) Your Mom can see and hear everything that you are experiencing and she's closer to you than you realize. Look for her in everything. Music and nature did it for me when Dave passed away. Holding you in prayer dear friend, love and hugs sent your way.

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