This is one of those posts that is purely an indulgence. I am not looking for comments or reactions, but I needed to write this, and it is long.
Earlier this summer my best friend's mother passed away -- suddenly. While it was a no-brainer for me to drop things and be there for her and her family, it came at a personal cost. As I held her hand and hugged her, helped make phone calls and attended all the sad events that accompanied this tragedy, I was reliving my own mother's death minute by minute, partially because my own mother's death seems so recent, and also because I loved her Mom as a surrogate of sorts.
Each of us deals with life differently. No two deaths are alike, nor are our reactions. So as I watched my friend muttle through this and continue to see her depressed self make valiant efforts to move forward with daily activities, I kind of got caught up in her and her grief and helping in any way I could think of. My own grief resurfaced, but waited in the wings, as it had to do when my own mom first passed away.
I cannot remember the time after my Mom's death. I recall moments and major events, but nothing like day to day life. Upon discussing this with Ken, we realized that it was because I came back from my "burying" my mom to go back to work, face surgery of my own, and plan a wedding -- all within 2 months. Then life kind of took over... I blogged about my mom a few times, and it was painfully clear that I was sad and missing her. I do not think that I miss her more or less than anyone misses their mother when they go, but again, I think we all deal with it in our own ways.
To this day, I pull out all the love notes she sent me and left for me in hiding places to re-read them and smile. I love recalling wonderful childhood memories with her, and realizing now what an amazing job she did raising me. I can with clarity look back on her life, our life, and see where I lost my Mom to mental illness and where I just plain ol' lost my Mom.
People think of my relationship with her as acrimonius. And at times it was. We fought horribly and said mean and hurtful things to one another. She made intense and unrealistic demands on me and I continuously let her down, even on the small stuff and witheld my empathy in an attempt to separate myself from her. I was mean. But when it is all said and done, she was my Mom and I loved her more than I will ever be able to explain or maybe even understand, and I know she loved me.
I ache for her in a way that I cannot describe and wish in my truest of hearts that I could take away the pain that my friend is feeling. I wish that because I know the pain all too well. Maybe not the exact pain and in the exact way, but clos enough that I know I want to take it away from her. But then again, I wish I could take it away from myself.
Tuesday, Aug 19 will be two years ago that Leni K, my own personal Lulu Barlow, left this Earth. I take solace in the hope that she is in a better place and no longer in pain. That she is the Mom that I knew and loved and called my best friend, not because I had to, but because I really wanted to. I cannot tell you what I would give to have the phone ring and hear her voice on the other end or smell her perfume. I would gladly be late going somewhere so she could find just the right piece of jewelry to match the trim of her shirt or the right shade of lipstick. I would happily take a motherly check up call when I am not feeling my best.
As tomorrow approaches, the logical side of me notes that it is just another day and I should just move forward. But though it has been two years, it may as well have been yesterday. My heart phyiscally hurts and I just want to bring her back.
I am finally makign my way through her things and liquidating what I can in an attempt to just lessen the load so to speak. But as I do this, I cannot help but feel liKE I am liquidating parts of her. SO I am writing this tonight to tell her...
MOM, I LOVE YOU. I ALWAYS DID AND I ALWAYS WILL. I AM NOT GETTING RID OF YOU BY GETTING RID OF THESE THINGS, AS THAT IS WHAT THEY ARE, THINGS. THEY ARE NOT YOUR LOVE, YOUR HEART, YOUR COMPASSION. THEY DO NOT HAVE YOUR WISDOM OR YOUR CARE AND THEY DO NOT COMFORT ME WHEN I WANT MY MOMMY. THEY DO NOT HAVE YOUR TOUCH, YOUR SMELL OR YOUR LOVE. THEY ARE NOTHING COMAPRED TO MEMORIES AND LOVE I HOLD FROM YOU IN MY HEART.
THORNDYKE AND ROSEBUD ARE DOING FINE AND HAVE BECOME A PART OF OUR FAMILY. KEN IS AMAZING AND CONTINUES TO TAKE SUCH GOOD CARE OF ME AND LOVE ME THE WAY YOU WANTED ME TO BE LOVED. IT ALL WORKS OUT IN THE END, AFTERALL, DOESN'T IT? I JUST WISH YOU WERE HERE TO SEE IT ALL, IN LIVING COLOR.
I LOVE YOU, TO THE MOON AND BACK.
6 comments:
Amy, that was so beautiful. It made me cry.
After my sister died I had the same issue... where everything kind of went by in a blur I have a hard time recalling. It's like you have snippets of days, just moments that you've kept or recovered from a haze of disbelief, shock and sorrow.
I hope helping your friend with her grief has helped you with yours.
Sweetheart. I should not have read this at work. I am starting to cry.
I know that I can't take away the pain, but wish I could. I know you loved your Mom very much. She knew it, especially when she had her moments of clarity.
I know that going through the pieces we still have is difficult, but we'll get through them and be better off for it.
Thanks for writing this. I have yet to deal with the death of a parent and the associated grief.
I wish Mom and Dad were closer so I could see them more often. It will always be a regret of mine that I wasn't able to see them as often as I'd like.
Your right that this post helped me understand more of what you are going through. I am so sorry that she had to leave and you don't have her to talk to.
Sending my love & hope that you will feel peace.
PS- thanks for having lunch and hopefully you enjoyed our conversation as much as I. =)
You had a lot of life happen to you all at once when you lost your Mom... and you did what you needed to do to go on, and I know that's what she would have wanted for you.
I have yet to know what your pain is like, so I can't say I understand, but I can say I know she's proud of you wherever she is. I wonder if we ever really stop grieving? But we must go on... so by remembering her as you do and caring for what's left behind is admirable.
While I have yet to experience the pain of losing a parent, I did think of you this week as I talked to my mom about my aunt who just passed away. As I struggled with knowing I could not be there for my mom in her time of need I realized why I was so upset with not being able to go home and support her. Because some day I will have to go home and she won't be there to support. I can not imagine living that and admire the strength and composure you have held over these past two years. You have endured so much so quickly. More than any one person should have to endure. And still you soldier on.
Your mother I am sure is so proud. Especially where you were able to help a friend through her grief and offer support and understanding where so few people can.
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