A pearl among women

Mom died.

She’d had a fairly unremarkable elective surgery earlier in the week.  I talked to her the next day.  She sounded great, optimistic even.  And the next thing I knew, she was gone.  I’ll never hear her voice again or feel her touch.  My son might not remember her.

They visited for a few weeks in the fall.  I’m really grateful I pushed for them to stay longer than originally planned.  I’m grateful she got to meet all of her grandbabies.  I have faith that she went to Heaven.  I know she’s walking easily, chatting with her own mother.  Oh, how I remember her grief when her own mother died.  And now it’s my turn.

I can be happy for her and sad for me and my family.  That divide which stands between life and death is stark.  I was looking at the clouds as the sun rose.  It was that moment when the clouds seem to shine with their own light: brilliant and dazzling.  I felt like she was there in the midst of that glorious shining and I was under the deepest of dark clouds without her.

beach clouds cloudy coast
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I told Landry I could almost pretend it hadn’t happened.  My day to day life hasn’t changed.  But there is this sick feeling in my gut and a feeling of nakedness – the vulnerability of grief.

Do you categorize your friends?  These are the friends I drink with.  These are my nerdy friends who like Dr. Who. These are my friends that would drive the get-a-way car.  Well, now I have a list of friends who have lost someone close.  They’ll get what I’m going through.

How are you?

It’s such an innocent question.  I find I don’t know how to answer it anymore.  Mostly I feel abysmal.  I haven’t slept well since it happened and my appetite is low.  I’m jet-lagged.  I went home for a week to lay her to rest with my family.  And now I’m back.  Grief and fatigue and the stress of travel have done a number on me.  I broke down and sobbed in the airport.

I wish I could be with her now, but I have work to do here.  I have to raise my own babies.  Some day, I will cross over myself.  She’ll be there waiting for me with a smile and a big hug.

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