Heading up to Shelbyville... Today the hurriedness that comes after losing someone is gone and the business of preparing to say the public goodbye will take up most of my day. But I know there will be that moment. I know that at some point I will come across something, lay my hands on something, smell something that will trigger what I have suppressed: the bleak abyss of moving on without her. I know that she is in a better place. I know that she is with her Father. I know that I did what she would have wanted me to do. And I can tell those things to my brain over and over. I wish I could convince my heart. I cannot be sad for her and it sounds so selfish to say that I am going to be sad for me. I walk the fence between being so grateful for the time I had with her and wishing I hadnt gotten so close. That is the risk that we run and I get that. But how could I not give her my heart so easily when she loved so fiercely? How could I not do everything I could to make up for the horrible things I had done before I found out that living my life didnt mean living for myself? The thought in the back of my mind is to withdraw from everyone, to do what I can to make sure this never, ever, ever happens to me again. But then I think of her. I think of her open heart. I think of how she never met a stranger, how we would sit in waiting rooms with complete strangers and slowly they would become friends because she feared nothing and people are drawn to that kind of courage. I know that she is in a better place. But I wish she was right beside me. I know that she is with her Father. But I desperately miss my mother. I know that I did what she would have wanted me to do. But I would give anything to have her hold my hand, call me Jame, and tell me the three words that summed up life. IT. GOES. ON. But right now, without her, it doesnt feel like much... This is the dark place and I knew I would get there, but it is not pitch black and that is how I know that there will be peace again. There is joy still, but there is pain and today there will be so much remembering, which will be beautiful and there will also be the looking in the future which ironically holds nothing but memories of her. Emily Dickinson said it best: Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell. This is my latter. Pray for comfort for James, Kyser, John, Jerry and myself as well as my Uncle Mike and his wife Joyce.
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 14:18:13 +0000
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