Today I allowed myself to listen to a song that, normally when I hear it, I switch the station. Not because I don't like it but because I identify with it way too much. Here are the lyrics (the song is by Matthew West):
Don't be mad if I cry/It just hurts so bad sometimes/'Cause everyday it's sinking in
And I have to say goodbye all over again/You know I bet it feels good to have the weight of this world off your shoulders now/I'm dreaming of the day when I'm finally there with you/Save a place for me/Save a place for me/I'll be there soon/I'll be there soon/Save a place for me/Save some grace for meI'll be there soonI'll be there soon/I have asked the question why/But I guess the answer's for another time
So instead I'll pray with every tear/And be thankful for the time I had you here
And I wanna live my life just like you did/Make the most of my time just like you did
And I wanna make my home up in the sky/Just like you did/Oh, but until I get there
Until I get there
I don't know why exactly but I've really been missing Mom, and quite emotional about it if I let myself dwell on it. I'm sure there are lots of factors. This Thursday, Garrett will be four; but it will also mark 6 months that Mom is gone. Wyatt is nine months now and loving life. He is so much fun right now; and I know if she were here, she would eat it up. Or it could simply be the sunshine, and my flower catalogs that are in my mailbox every day.
Well needless to say I cried like a baby on the way home. It's so odd, when Mom was in hospice, it was imperative for me to be there as much as was possible. When her eyes would open, the room stopped, and I hung on every word that she said. I felt loved and special if she had something to say to just me. I told myself that those times would be what I would cling to and I promised myself that I wouldn't forget. I haven't forgotten, but a strange thing has happened. I very rarely think about those weeks, not because of the pain involved with it, but rather, when I think of Mom, that is not what comes to mind.
The things that I look back on and incidentally are always running through my mind, are so common place, it's profound. It's taking those catalogs to the house, pouring over them and dreaming; and then paring it down to what we could afford/had the energy to plant. It's little things that G will tell me about, that I never knew of, that put a smile on my face. I miss the everyday with her.
One of things that struck me at the memorial service was how many people stood up and said how they felt like they had lost their best friend. It really was overwhelming to me. At that moment, I felt extremely privileged that God chose me to be one of her children. I was so thankful for all those years that I was able to spend with her, and felt extremely loved by God. It's taken me nearly six months to understand that at her service is one of those times I felt God wrapping His arms around me.
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I cry with you, Sis.
ReplyDeleteTracey...
ReplyDeleteYou've just described in detail, what I've been experiencing recently. It's a weird transition, and it's extremely hard. Like you said, at first, I clung to those last moments. Then, when the blur was gone (the flurry of activity in preparing for the service, etc). Those "last moments" became vivid and deeply painful. Now, I'll find myself doing something seemingly mundane,and suddenly I'll have a flashback of doing the "mundane" with my mother... calling her to find out about a recipe, sitting with her poring over the shopping ads, having a cup of coffee, fussing at the kids....
When that "flashback" hits, it's like someone driving a battering ram into your heart. A few moments later, the intensity of that feeling subsides, but the sadness lingers.
I'm probably not describing the feeling effectively, but -- I understand. Sometimes I'll be talking animatedly with my husband and then he'll walk out of the room for a second or two, and when he comes back, I'm sitting there crying. No warning at all. Guess it's all part of this "grief process". And at the same time, I feel (you said it), incredibly blessed at having been her daughter. She is still "bearing fruit" in our lives even after she's gone. <Now that comment would take much to long to attempt to explain)... anyway. I guess this is just my way of taking a simple sentence and turning it into a few paragraphs. My simple sentence is wrapped up in two words:
"I understand".
Love you Tracey.
Dei.