Nothing but Silence

For the first time, since my mother's death, I really need to talk with her.  I need to ask her a question.  I need maternal advice. I need my mother, and she isn't here.

My mother was there the day I took my first step, spoke my first word, went to school for the first time, graduated eighth grade, twelfth grade and college. My mother was there for the first big break-up and she was there when my feelings were hurt by a friend or sibling. My mother taught me how to write my name in cursive and she taught me how to use the iron and fold clothes. My mom cried with me when I miscarried my first child and she was with me in my heart, eleven years later,  the day I gave birth to my only child. She was by my side when my daughter's belly button fell off at 2 weeks old.

I was hoping my mother would be with me as I struggled to loosen my grip on my daughter's life, allowing her to become more independent.  But she isn't. and I find myself riddled with questions that only she can answer.

My daughter and I have entered into a very tense time in our relationship.  I am not exactly sure why, but it has been very hard.  It seems that we struggle and fight all the time now.  I don't remember it being this way with my mom.  I want to ask mom if I was difficult...if I gave her grief.  If I made her heart ache. If I made her cry.   I need to know that I am going to make it through and that my daughter will still love me, like I loved her.  I'll never know.

My mother was my silent cheerleader.  I feel a great emptiness where her cheers used to be.

Why??

Is there something wrong with me?  Why do the tears still flow so easily?  Why do the tears come without warning?  Why am I sometimes swept into deep sadness?  Why does it appear that people have forgotten?  Why does the fact that it seems like people have forgotten make me so mad?  Why do I feel so alone in my grief? 

I wish that I could talk to my dad about the hurt in my heart, but I don't want to upset him.  I mention things in passing to my brother, and they are ignored.  I have one sister who said "You have to find a way to cope."  And another sister who is absent all together. 

The co-worker's husband died.  He held on much longer than my mom. What is his widow feeling now?  I feel like such a baby, that I have no business feeling this badly...when so many others are dealing with harder things.  Yet here I sit, feeling my sadness, alone...and all I can do is feel sorry for myself.  How pathetic.

...by the grace of God

The husband of a co-worker is in the hospital "living" his last few hours.  He has been asleep since 3pm yesterday.  Cancer.  You might say that Cancer has taken his life, but that wouldn't be exactly true.  Cancer is the "how".  Cancer is a horrible thing.  In my opinion the worst way to die (except for torture).  This man has suffered through months of chemotherapy, knowing that the end would come painfully. I praise God that my mother's end came swiftly and, from what I understand, with little pain.

My mother slipped into a deep sleep after her ambulance ride to the Hospice facility.  It was a little more than 48 hours later when she died.  No one had any idea how close to dying she was.  But there you have it...we are all so much more the wiser now.  My dad wishes that he had ridden with her to Hospice, that maybe it would have made a difference.  I encourage him not to have those thoughts, as they will make him crazy. I think, even if he had ridden with her, he would still be dealing with guilt about something else.  The fact is plain...God determines our every breath, He determines the "how" of our last breath.  Accepting that will help ease the pain...both the physical pain and the emotional pain, not just for the one who is dying, but also for the one watching. I know, easy for me to say - no it isn't.  I am still, at times - seven months later - in denial.  I look at her picture and can't believe it is true.  How my heart breaks for this woman...watching her husband die.  How will she go on?  How do any of us go on?

But by the grace of God.

Like a Ton of Bricks

It hit me like a ton of bricks today.  It was as if it had just happened.  Driving around doing some errands I pulled into a parking spot, it occurred to me that it has been seven months today since my mother's death.  The way I felt at that moment was akin to how I felt the moment I heard the news.  My breath left my body and I cried from the deepest part of my soul.  I sobbed.  My poor daughter didn't know what to do.  And just as quickly as the grief overcame me, the tears left and I was able to go do what I needed to do.  If someone had told me, before she died, that I would still feel the intensity of grief seven months later, I would never have believed them.  Yet, here I sit with a remnant of what I felt earlier.  A dark, sad cloud hanging over my head.

I have not heard my mother's voice in over seven months, and never will again.  That has been the hardest pill to swallow in all this...it's the forever bit.  How do people do it?  How has my father gotten up day after day, doing things he has never had to do for  himself - those very things a constant reminder of his wife's absence.  A constant reminder of the pain of loss and grief.  

I have described my experience with grief as the tide, coming in and going out.  The tide came in today as a tidal wave.

The Empty Feeling

There was a time, not too long ago, when I would dread doctor's appointments and those annual tests.  I always figured, based on my medical history, that I would eventually contract one of those horrible female cancers and die a long and painful death.  I would be sick to my stomach until word came that all tests were negative.

Since my mother's death and the recent "celebration" of another birthday, I have begun looking at things differently.  With the hope in my heart that I will one day see my mother again, in her glorified self, the thought of my own end of life seems sweeter and sweeter with each passing day.  No, I am not giddy over the fact of physical or emotional pain.  I am, however, giddy at the thought of eternity...on the streets of gold...with my saviour.  Where I will no longer battle sin.  Where my heart will no longer hurt over those I have lost through death or distance or change.  Where I will no longer have any physical pain, and no longer cry or have need to cry.  I grow weary with each passing day.  I try to pull myself up by my bootstraps, but fail at every turn.


I had no idea the toll that my mother's death would take on me....who could know?  Each time I pass her picture, each time I call my dad, I feel it all over again.  


My body aches from the pain of her absence....


  

In Memory of Mother -from the Hebrew Union Prayer Book

"I remember thee in this solemn hour, my dear mother. I remember the days when thou didst dwell on earth, and thy tender love watched over me like a guardian angel. Thou hast gone from me, but the bond which unites our souls can never be severed; thine image lives within my heart.  May the merciful Father reward thee for the faithfulness and kindness thou hast ever shown me; may he lift up the light of his countenance upon thee and grant thee eternal peace!"

I know nothing about the Hebrew Union Prayer Book, but I was drawn to these words.

I remember the days when you walked on earth...when you washed my clothes, brushed my hair,  gave me food to eat, I remember the band aids, the Popsicles during the summer and  I remember the gold Christmas bell pin you wore on your red dress. I remember the pink tip of the cigarette and the glow of the cigarette in the window where you waited for me to return home.  I remember the holidays that you made special.  I remember you...the smoky perfume smell...the scuff of your slippers.  You were my silent cheerleader and you always loved me with your whole heart.   I miss you mom.

My Thoughts on Grief

C.S. Lewis wrote, in his book A Grief Observed, that grief is like a bomber plane circling round above dropping its bombs each time the circle brings it overhead; physical pain is like the steady barrage on a trench in WWI, hours of it with no let-up for a moment.  Thought is never static, pain often is.

Whether it be described as the tide, coming in and out...constant and expected or described like the bomber circling overhead, sporadic and unexpected, one thing is certain...grief is painful.  I never expected it to hurt this much.