While she was still here, we could talk with her, hear her voice, her stories and her many, many poems, quotes, lyrics and adages which she brought out to share with us whenever life warranted it. I could have started writing down her quotes last January and had enough to compose a book by September. Yes, she had that many quotable quotes. And more.
While she was with us, we banded together as a family. We presented a united front. We each did what we did best. Everyone's "super power" was different. But we each had something. We carried each other just as much as we supported and were present for Mom.
It's been five months. Five months. Her home is gone...
This morning, I had a dream about all of us being together in her home. We pretty much knew it would be our last time. We were together, we were in that safe little bubble where it was just the four of us (Mom and Dad's four children) and no one else. We were breaking out of the bubble and going back into the real world.
We knew we would be sad when the house was gone. But it was still in "our" possession. So we tabled our sadness for another day.
Wait. It wasn't a dream.
We did all that. We said all of those things. We walked through that moment less than four months ago. But it felt fresh and new in my dream.
Even after Mom was gone, it brought comfort to me each and every time I returned to her home. Even when she wasn't there. The walls spoke to me. There has been such a camaraderie among us as we walked through life together. Mom's home holds so many of those memories.
The walls embraced me just as much as they could but I knew everything important was still with me. Within my heart, my soul and my entire being. Letting go of the house was right. The timing was as perfect as one could hope for. We had time to linger between "then" & "now" and the house didn't have to sit alone for too long. It was time to let go.
I woke up this morning with the remnants of my dream wafting through my subconsciousness.
As much as I miss finding Mom on the other end of a phone call or a five hour drive, I miss the closeness our family shared when we walked that final walk. Together. Holding each other up. One stepping in when another had to step out ...
My son spoke at the small graveside goodbye we had for Mom. He reminded me of the words he spoke not so very long ago. As soon as he repeated them, I remembered what he had said but in the interim, they had drifted from the tip of my consciousness.
He spoke of the night he sat with me and my sister at Mom's dining room table, as we retold the story of the days leading up to and including Mom's admission into the hospital. We were still in the middle of the end at that moment. We were hovering in a space where you think things could go either way. But in our hearts, we knew we were in the final count down.
What my son remembers from all the words we spoke that evening, was the way each one of us stepped in, stepped up, supported, relieved and team-tagged each other throughout the days that led up to the morning Mom died.
He was in awe of the way our family worked in a time of duress. It made us strong. United. We had each other's back. We were there for Mom but the behind the scenes image of Mom and Dad's family was the strength we received from each other.
I started this post with the title "Missing Her" in mind. Yes, I miss being able to talk with Mom. But I miss those moments of strength I found with my family in equal or greater proportion.
Life is moving on. And I can't say I'm a really big fan of that. I want to run out to Mom's and just "be there" like I was last year.
But I can't. And I won't.
So I just feel like a part of me is missing this morning. I'm not quite sure where to look for it but I feel it would come to me if I would sit still and quiet for long enough.
Maybe that is why I am resenting my work weeks so much. Maybe.
Or maybe I am just feeling very weak and vulnerable out here on my own. This is not exactly where I want to be right now.
But I must warrior on. And I will.
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