|Balloons we released after Mom's funeral|
Too many things were buried in that closet. My mother wasn't a hoarder but she was a bit of a pack rat (not sure there is a difference to the rest of the world but there is in my mind) and sentimentality is big in our family. She saved some interesting stuff.
Today I feel a bit like a wind-up doll that needs a strong winding but there isn't anyone good enough to do it. To add to that, Mom & I worked together for 15 years so here I sit, in an office filled with memories after having left a home filled with memories... I have no place to hide. Top it off with missing so much work because of my back problem, I don't feel like I can take any time off to run away for a bit. There isn't anyplace I really want to go, either. What I'd love is a room, a dark, comfy room with a big couch and lots of tissues. I want to be where no one knows how to find me, stashed with a supply of flavored water, my Bible, my journal and just... me. Where God and I could spend some time alone, hours really, and He'd show me where my head is wobbly and get me put back together properly. I'd love to make that happen but I don't know how. Even if I crawled into bed at home, the guys are still there and I'd be worried about them, outside the door, worried about me.
Do I sound like I'm whining? I'm sorry if I do...I don't mean to. I feel more like someone who knows she's coming to the end of her rope and I'm trying to come up with a solution to avoid falling into some sort of abyss. When Mom died I described it as feeling like I'd suddenly discovered I was standing over a hole I knew nothing about and someone just yanked the rug out from under me. I'm falling and I have no idea when I'll stop... I think I'm looking for a ledge to rest on.
Praying God provides a ledge soon... I would love to just have that good cry and function again. I say function because I am never, ever going to get used to having Mom gone. I look to my phone a dozen times a day to call her and I get that punch in the gut feeling every time I realize I can't reach her. It may get easier and I may only look a time or two a day but I'll never get used to her not being around.
Oh Jesus...come soon... pain just plain... stinks.