It sneaks up on me, that crafty and relentless thing called grief.
Yes, it comes out to prey on me in those obvious moments when Mom is at the forefront of my mind - when I want to tell her about the boys, when we drive by the cemetery, when I have flashbacks to what it was like for her that last time in the hospital....
Yet it is all too ready to take advantage of those odd moments when I'm unprepared and defenseless against the fresh onslaught of horror that overwhelms me when I remember that Mom is gone. It delights in reminding me that even though I know without a doubt she's in a place of no pain, I would gladly take one more chance to tell her that I love her.
Odd moments.
I can't hold back the hands of time...or even reverse them. I wouldn't if I could. However, the selfish and fallible side of me very much wishes that I could hold back those odd moments when I'm so vulnerable against that thing called grief.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Odd moments
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3 comments:
A couple of weekends ago I was at mom and dad's. I showed mom a couple photographs of Jonathan and she said "Oh, J. would have loved those." Suddenly she began to cry. I began to cry. We held each other and were overwhelmed with sadness. We both took deep breaths and tried to move on, but it was hard.
The other night I dreamed about your mom. It was so vivid and she was so healthy. It was so ...weird.
Because I didn't see her at her worst I can only picture her smiling and laughing, with that twinkle in her eye. For that I am grateful but, in a way, I feel guilty, because I know other memories shade yours, Aunt D.'s and Uncle M's.
In a much smaller way, I know what you mean, in other words.
Love you.
Lisa~ There are many moments like that here. Sometimes the moments are suffocatingly painful and sometimes they're wistful and funny.
Hey, if you're gonna dream about Momma, it's better that she's healthy in it. I wouldn't want you to remember her being sick. The experiences of the different sicknesses she battled cause the memories that truly represented who she was (wise, fast witted, graceful, loving and strong) to be clouded over sometimes. I don't want that for you. Neither would she.
I remember two things so clearly; her laugh and her singing voice. That deep, velvety laugh and that voice that made a hymn a hug around the shoulders from God Himself. One of the first things I ever did when I met your parents; still a stranger, not yet a member of the family, was laugh with them.
Now I see her up ahead, saying "C'mon, y'all, its only a little bit further...."
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