So, I'll sing Hallelujah. You were an angel in the shape of my mum, when I fell down you'd be there holding me up. Spread your wings as you go, when God takes you back He'll say "Hallelujah, you're home."
The calendar has been taunting me for the last several weeks. No matter how much I wanted to hold back this day from coming, here it is, today, December 14th, emboldened forever in my mind. On this day 4 years ago, I was 32 weeks pregnant and literally brought to my knees with news that my mother had died. Typing the words still knocks the wind out of me, the pain of that day is something almost indescribable.
Those that have lost a parent or have experienced some other significant loss I suspect know what this feeling is like. It's a pain in your chest, in your core, in your soul that takes your breath away. During the first year after her passing, I felt this pain a lot... now it comes during the big, "you should be here" moments.
A few weeks ago I finally removed her name from my "favorites" list in my phone. That was a big step for me. I haven't deleted her number yet, that will come some day- I'm just not there yet.
My brother and I normally get together on this day but we won't be doing that this year as we live too far apart. A few friends are taking me out to celebrate my birthday tonight, I welcomed the opportunity to do something special on this day. I will say since her loss, I've become significantly more thankful for my friend group. I've always appreciated them, but in the years since she died they have become more valuable to me than diamonds or gold and I am blessed beyond measure to have the friends that I have.
My friend and I were talking about ER nurse mentality the other day, and as a nurse (as with other first responders) I think I've forced myself to become somewhat desensitized to death, dying and tragedy as a protective mechanism. It's not uncommon for us to run an unsuccessful code in the ER and then go eat a slice of pizza or share a joke with a colleague. It's not that we are mean or heartless, but some of the things that we see on a daily basis could keep us up every night if we let it. After my mom died, that protective shell disappeared for a while. Things that didn't used to faze me, would eat at me for hours and even days. I stepped away from the ER because I was struggling with that. 4 years later, that shell is mostly back. Every once in a while, a similar circumstance to my mom's death exposes the weakness of that shell. I suppose it always will.
I don't have anything deep and profound to say this year other than it sucks. The pain has lessened, but its still a pain nonetheless. The absence of her during the "big stuff" is still profound. My mom's side of the family is pretty small, but we are tight. We do an annual family vacation and mom earned the nickname "Sarge" because of her ability to organize and get everything and everyone in line. I recently jumped into Sarge Jr. mode during a crisis and as silly as this may sound, it was one of the first times since she died that I felt like she was really with me, guiding me along the way. I don't want more crises, but I welcome the opportunity to feel her presence any time.
I suppose that's all for today. Please tell your family and friends that you love them today, and if you see your mom, give her an extra big hug for me.
I worked with Regina, at the Highlander Inn.. We shared an office. The news of her passing knocked the wind out of me.
ReplyDeleteI understood, then, and now, exactly how you felt. I lost my Dad the same way...suddenly, without warning. I was 12 years old, and even now, so many years later, some days I dwell on my memories, and my heart breaks with longing. Those days don't come very often any more, but when they do, I embrace them.
Regina was a lovely woman, and we always had good times at work. I wish we could have remained friends for many years. But the universe determines our path.. Hold your memories tight..close to the vest.. God speed.