Journal Entry (6 weeks)
Last night I was stricken once again with insomnia. Thoughts churned and churned and emotions came to the surface. I touched my mother’s “jammy” top which is now tucked under my pillow, instead of wearing it under my clothes. I thought about how everyone keeps saying nice things to me, “Oh your mom was almost 90, she lived a wonderful life.” or “Oh your parents are together once again.” or “It is so good your mother is not suffering any longer” These are all great statements to hold on to and deflect the loss of death and spin it to a positive and then move on–for Pete’s sakes.
What doesn’t ever get said is that I am actually suffering the loss of an actual human being. A space once taken up on the earth that is no longer there. This human being was a physical presence in my life every single day!
I am now facing every single day as an ENTIRELY new experience without that person there. She is GONE!
She was there for 55 ½ years and 21 days and now she is gone…
The space that once held her on earth is empty.
She was my friend
besides being my mother.
She was my friend as I toddled through the halls of the yellow house, playing in the toy drawer under the oven and she would sing with me.
She was my friend when I colored in a coloring book on the bar as she chopped salad, or washed the dishes with that hand towel on her shoulder and we would talk of important things to a five year old.
She was my friend when we sat next to each other every night at the dinner table and I put my meat fat on her plate because I didn’t want it on mine.
She was my friend in high school when I began to menstruate, went out on dates, and cheered me on as a gagging song girl.
She was my friend when I was the only child home and spent a lot of hours with my mom and dad; even traveling together.
She was my friend while I vomited every pregnancy or when we sat on the floor as little ones crawled over our legs, played outside, or swam in the pool.
She was my friend when I’d call to vent about how tired I felt, how great something was, or just when I needed to be mothered.
She was my friend as I counted the very days to leave for summer and travel clear across country to see her and swing on her swing.
She was my friend even as I watched her grow older and slower and sicker and I wanted so much to take those things away from her.
We listened to each other; we laughed, and cried together often. We shared millions of moments as friends do!
She was my dearest girlfriend.
And although she is happy someplace else,
I am feeling that huge empty space where she once stood on the earth that filled my life with a precious, trusting friend.
Yep, she’s happy. But do you know what—I am still sad.
I am lonely for her. I am still grieving for ME.
I am the one who wakes up every morning knowing she’s not there to talk to on the phone or come home to this summer and every summer from now on, or run to when I need her. Where do I go now?
I know she’s so happy to be with Dad. That is a nice comfort. I believe she is busy, she’s walking, she’s alive, she’s all good in heaven.
But I am still here—on the earth, in the same life, waking up each day being starkly reminded that my mom is not here anymore. My best friend is not here.
I will keep agreeing with all of you that she lived a wonderful life, that she is alright, and all is well—but do you know what—
I am not alright.
I am the one left now; left behind to face life without my life-time best friend.
I am feeling that loss every single moment of every single day.
One day mom explained to me how it felt when her own mother passed away—She said, “It created a huge hole in my heart which could never be filled.”
There it is….
My hole is deep and empty and although I will live my life seeking joy and thanksgiving, and stay busy every single second, I shall always always walk on earth, now, with this gaping hole right here in my heart because I don’t have my best friend and mom today to talk to, or come home to any other day I live here.
AND That is why I feel different than you!