"So tell me, what is it that you plan to do/ with your one wild and precious life?"
--Mary Oliver

Saturday, May 05, 2007

the fog begins to lift


The presence of that absence is everywhere
--Edna St. Vincent Millay


In a few hours it will be exactly three weeks since my mom died. For some reason, I can't get the memory of reaching over and closing her eyes after she quit breathing out of my head.

The last three weeks I have been mostly numb, stumbling around in some sort of fog. But the last couple of days, the fog has begun to lift, and I have to say that I really, REALLY miss it, now that the realization that she's gone, forever, that I'll never see that warm and beautiful smile, or hear her voice on the telephone, or give her a hug ever again is starting to set in. It's beyond belief, the pain is. My heart hurts, literally, actually hurts, like it is breaking and shattering into a million pieces, my eyes are red and sore and puffy (my whole face is for that matter) because I can't stop crying, and I feel like I can't breathe. I can't concentrate, can't sleep, can't function very much if at all.

I am dreading the next week. She would have been 79 years old on Thursday. And now I have another reason to dread Mother's Day.

I'm sure that someday I will be able to feel grateful that I had the chance to say goodbye, to be with her when she died--I've been haunted for years by the fact that my dad died so suddenly, always wondering if he really knew just how much I loved him. Adored him. That someday I will find pleasure and comfort in my memories, that the pain will recede, and I will be able to feel her presence. I know this, intellectually. But it's the kind of knowledge that hasn't found its way into my heart yet. All I know is that I've not only lost my mother; I've lost my best friend too.

I want to thank all of you who have been so supportive and thoughtful during all of this, and ask you to please be patient with me now. Your friendship means more to me than you'll ever know.

5 comments:

liz said...

Barbara, I've been thinking of you a lot lately and continue to pray for you. I still yearn for foggy days. Clarity ain't always fun, huh? Keep hanging in there. Someday I know the pain won't be as sharp as it is today.

This too shall pass. Peace.

Kristie said...

Wow, I can relate to so much of what you wrote. It's how I felt when my dad passed away. My dad also died suddenly and I too wonder if he knew how much I loved him and adored him. It's been 8 years but his birthday and father's day still hit me very hard!

I'm praying for you!

Kristie said...

Barb,

I wanted to post this over here to just so you see it. I replied to your response on my blog in my childless by choice post but here it is.

Barb,

I hope you are checking back to see this reply.

I would love to get together sometime! I think if you click on my MSN profile it will give you both of my email addresses.

I'm glad my reply on your blog was meaningful to you. It did not seem like a small thing to me. I lost my dad 8 years ago and I too was touched by friends who reached out. It's hard to lose a parent, or anyone for that matter and I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you!

I'm going to post this on your blog too just to make sure you see it!

liz said...

Hey Barb -

I think today is your mom's birthday, right? Just wanted you to know I am thinking of & praying for you especially today.

Love to you.

Emilie said...

I am just catching up on blogs now, Barb, and wanted to send you a bunch of hugs. {{{Barb}}}