The words fell out before the thought had fully fleshed itself: “I think I’m afraid to write.” Or maybe I couldn’t contain them any longer? Laden with a weight I hadn’t realized was there. Surprised, he looked up and ask “what do you mean?” I blinked as I tried to carve the lump out of my throat, an unpleasant remnant of what I’d just spilled out. Since I hadn’t realized that’s where my heart and mind had taken residence, I shook my head bewildered. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to explain it.” It’s been several weeks since then and I’m just now able to dissect it…
My family and I have had a lot of “stuff” in the last ten years. (My God, has it really been ten years?) There comes a point, at least for me, where the sheer cumulative effect of it all becomes difficult to believe. All that can’t have happened, can’t be true, can’t happen to one person/family. And yet, it did. Thankfully, things eventually leveled out, we picked up our new normals and moved on. That’s gotta be the end of it, right?
There’s a saying: you’re either going through a trial, coming out of one, or heading into one. It’s foundation is Biblical. Jesus said: “Here on Earth you will have many trials and sorrows” (John 16:33 NLT). A side pain free escape door does not exist. Flash forward to this past January, and here begins the next chapter of disbelief…
She was having a “routine,” out patient surgery. Over half a million are performed in the United States every year. It was Friday morning, then late Monday afternoon, she was gone. We’d moved four hours away, so when we got the “you need to come now, I’m not sure she’s going to make it” call, guilt immediately swept in. You can “should” all over yourself, but in these situations, all it does is create a mess. We hadn’t been in the car more than 30 minutes when we got the second call: Mom was gone.
My husband and I drove for quite a while in silence. I was behind the wheel, but I have no recollection of how we got to the hospital. The staff was kind enough to “give her the room” until we arrived. I mostly remember feeling numb. Seeing her pale complexion, fragile body, and open mouth reminded me of my daddy, who looked similar when he passed. He’d battled cancer for a few years, so I was ready for it. She should still be here.
Five days later, we’re still in town, and my mom calls saying she needs to go to the ER. This might be a bit confusing—let me explain. Mary, my mom in love I introduced her as, died that Monday. While she did not birth me, she had nurtured and treated me like her own flesh for decades. I thought of her as Mom—our relationship that close. And here comes the sticky part: she’d treated me more like her daughter than my own mom—our relationship has been rocky for decades, which I won’t go into here.
This, in part, is why I’m afraid to write. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs” (1 Corinthians 13:4-5 NIV). Love is also HARD! I have been wrapped up in these conflicted feelings: how do I honor my mother and father while no longer feeling “owned” by them? How can I honor my own feelings while still being respectful to them? I say them because even though my daddy left us five years ago, my mom is still here—doing unto one vicariously does unto the other, and I mean no malace to either.
There’s so much more to this “story.” Aging parents, navigating the death of one, the copious amounts of stuff (literally and figuratively) that goes with both…it is all too real, too personal, too much of me that I’m afraid to share. So why am I doing so now? Because I know I’m not the only one. Our stories may not be mirror images, but they’re likely oriented close enough to feel familiar. I will likely share more in the future. For now, I will pause my pain and be present. This I can say with certainty: we cannot simply turn off life’s toils. What we can do is attempt to hit “pause” long enough to catch our breath as to not get utterly consumed.
So in my REA/L moment with you today, as I put down my phone to focus on my man sitting beside me and pick my head up to enjoy watching the boats go by, I hope you too will come up for air. You are deserve it. #LetsGetREALTogether
Let's Get REAL Together 