I wrote this a couple weeks ago. I could examine why i didn’t post it but i think it would be safe to summarize that i didn’t want to admit my weaknesses out loud. Yet, the whole purpose of this blog is to be transparent. So, without further adieu….
My heart is so heavy right now. The 45 minute drive to work was uneventful yet I enjoyed the time to clear my head. Ever feel like something isn’t right but you can’t put your finger on it? Yeah….it’s one of those days. Maybe it’s nothing, Maybe it’s everything…hell if I know.
I get to work and my boss isn’t here. Very unlike him. In the past couple years I’ve seen him come in 5 minutes late once. Within 15 minutes he sends an email to the team explaining that his father died last night. My heart goes out to him. I was pretty close to my mother and it’s been almost 10 years since she went to be with the Lord. The pain she carried 2 years prior was unbearable. My Dad was right there by her side – the hard working man I grew up knowing. He gave up his freedom to tend to her needs, just like their vows promised. I admire him for that, but I saw in the pain in her eyes; she missed his love. She didn’t just want a bath, she longed for his loving touch. A kind word said out of love, not anger. I saw how incredibly unhappy she was the majority of my life. Always yearning. Always sacrificing. Maybe I still carry that…maybe I still resent my Dad on her behalf. He is a pro at spitting words laced with poison. None of us children escaped his rath. We each endure our own scars.
I’ve always felt that those last 2 years was God’s way of helping us let her go. She was everything to me and I couldn’t bear seeing her in constant pain, restricted to that bed unable to move half her body. Her tears…they tore right through me. She spoke often of death…even before her stroke. For some reason, out of 8 kids I was the one she confided in regarding her suicidal thoughts and her feelings that she was going crazy. I remember her laying in her hospital bed in the livingroom asking what I wanted when she was gone. I hated talking about it, but I’m so glad we did. Those crowning memories just before Mom’s passing are mixed with sorrow and joy. Even if I missed that last opportunity to talk to her, in my mind, not talking to her was the permission she needed to escape her pain. Her baby was all grown up now.
So, why can I not quit crying? I feel there’s a message here. My mother had this 6th sense about me. She would call and just know. Maybe she couldn’t put her finger on it, but when something was wrong, she could sense it. It drove her nuts sometimes. I think I inherited that ability. Something isn’t right. Some may think it’s a gift but it can be a damn curse at times. I’ve ignored these feeling too many times and got hurt in the process, so the feelings can easily turn scary. I miss my Mom calling, I miss her conjecture. I miss those moments where she didn’t get me and it made me mad. Funny how perfect isn’t love, but love itself is perfect.
Why did God take my Mom when He did?? I was 33 but I felt like I was 5. Sometimes…I still do. I still need her. She was the buffer for my dad. She couldn’t fix me, but she listened and she wasn’t afraid to tell me ‘what do you want me to do about it?‘. I know she felt my pain, and felt helpless as well. Being a mom myself, I can relate to that now. She loved me unconditionally, and I knew it. I remember in my late 20s, how often I’d call her just to apologize for being the little shit I was when I was younger. I hurt her so bad. But there’s no escaping hurt in this life. And there’s no picking the ones who will hurt you. Sometimes that hurt severes ties, other times, it creates an atmosphere for a new level of growth.
So many things going through my head…some how the thoughts get polluted churning through a mind of myriad memories. The Bible says not to fear, well dammit, I do. What happened to just being happy?? What happened to the serenity and peace? Why the hell does everything have to be so fucking temporary?? I think hell is sometimes right here, on Earth.
So, where did the strong, confident Angie go? I’m right here, this is just me. If you are going to love me, you better love my flaws, too. I rarely ever show any signs of weakness on this blog…well…here it is. I bleed, I hurt and I cry just like the rest of the world. Usually behind closed doors, in private, but not today. Today I mourn. I mourn my mother. I mourn the little girl in me and her arduous memories. Maybe it’s nothing and I’m just letting it get the best of me. Maybe it’s so small that it doesn’t matter. Maybe I am just like my Mother…