Balloons we released after Mom's funeral
Lately I've been thinking quite a bit about my mother.  Mom passed away in May and I did a pretty good job of holding myself together through everything - the funeral, wrapping up her "business," cleaning up her closet & room.  They were in the process of painting the house when she died, her room was going to be emptied for the painting anyway.  I think, though, that's where the first chinks in my armor came into play.  I wasn't ready for that job, would have loved to put it off for another month or two, when things weren't quite so raw but my father had other plans. 

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.

1 comment:

Laura Ingalls Gunn said...

My biological mother passed away when I was five. I still miss her and think about the too few memories that I have of her. It does get easier. Promise.