I realized a few minutes ago that I owed a neighbor/friend an explanation of what has been going on with me. He isn't plugged into the ladies gossip network. However, he lost his father last year, so he knows this territory well. I told him my whole life is in flux and I feel overwhelmed sometimes.
At night I watch TV and often reach for the phone to call a friend because living alone isn't a big deal except at night.
Mom and I would chat every night around dinner time, review the day.
Grief is coming in little bursts. I will see something beautiful or hear a piece of music and cry, thinking of Mom.
There are signs of her presence all around. My gardenia bushes bloomed riotously weeks ago and that was that, I thought. However, the other day my gardenia bush offered up one single, gorgeous bloom, and I didn't have the heart to cut it. Mom loved gardenias. I always cut them and put them in her room to enjoy. That one bloom, right at eye level, felt like a message from her to me -- look at this beautiful bloom! Smell that incredible fragrance! I am still here, watching over you...
One thing Elva taught me so well is to appreciate the beauty all around, even in ordinary things.
I keep seeing cardinals in the yard. Mom liked the idea they were a connection between humans and the spirit world. Sometimes when I see them in my backyard a say to myself "Hi Mom and Dad!" or "Hi Memaw and Papa!" If nothing else, they remind me that spirits of folks I love are all around. I firmly believe that.
Going through Mom's clothes, desk, jewelry, papers -- it's a lot. It feels overwhelming at times. I try to remember what my brother always says about overwhelming tasks -- "How do you eat an elephant? One small piece at a time."
My son has been wonderful, and my brother. My daughter has called several times. Neighbors and friends have sent food, flowers, cards. It's truly comforting.
When the sadness threatens to take hold I remind myself that in heaven we are all young and beautiful, and surrounded by unconditional love.
Mom looked forward to heaven. In addition to my dad, she missed her brother Bobby and her parents, so much.
Right before she died, her cousin Frank passed away. She loved him like a brother and I know that loss rocked her.
In heaven there is no pain. I love that thought. It makes the grief so much more bearable.
As I hugged my son today he reminded me "We will get through this."
Indeed we will.
Chinese proverb: The cure for dirt is soap and water. The cure for death is LIFE.
[I'm doing my best, Mom...]
