I have.
Grey's Anatomy seems to speak to a different part of my thoughts each time I watch a rerun of an episode I have watched numerous times before. Last night I was watching an episode where one surgeon was mentoring another and attempting to teach her all she knew before she died of a terminal brain tumor. These doctors spent night and day together at the hospital and the mentor-ship became personal.
When the terminally ill doctor started showing signs that the tumor was progressing, her life hung in the balance throughout the episode. Emotions at the surface, Arizona (the doctor being mentored) started to feel the reality unfolding and these words tumbled out of her:
“She’s in my head ... but I’m not ready for my head to be the only place she exists.”
Mom. I thought of Mom ...
My thoughts became so intertwined with Mom's throughout the years. The feeling escalated throughout her final year and by the end I felt she was as much a part of me, as I was myself. I was lost for a while as I adjusted to losing that part of my former self.
When she died, the feeling of closeness was so palpable. I felt her. I heard her. I predicted what she would have said and how she would have felt. I continued to advocate for her as though she was standing beside me and could hear every word I said.
It has been a gradual process but I have started to feel my own presence dominate once again. I continue to uphold Mom's memory and take a stand when someone misquotes or misunderstands her. But she isn't in my head any more.
Life has moved on without her.
Oprah speaks of the feeling that we are spiritual beings living in a human body. I don't know how much I understand or believe that statement but I do know Mom's energy was so very real right after she died. I felt her presence so keenly. I remember the feeling but I don't feel it so much now.
Someone was speaking of a topic where, in the past, Mom said in no uncertain terms the truth as she knew it. I heard Mom's words, I felt her conviction and I have fought to uphold her truth. The last time I found myself in this conversation I've had many times before, a little of Mom's fire within me had died. I still heard her. I continued to back her up. But the fire was missing.
It was a relief. Yet I missed it.
It has not been quite two years and I still feel like I'm regaining my footing at times. I have hit a new plateau. It feels like the circle of life has cycled around and I'm back to a place I have been before.
... ... ...
I wrote these words and stepped away to make myself some toast.
As soon as I saw my hands carefully spreading the butter to the edges of the toast, I saw Mom's hands buttering toast as she stood at the island in her kitchen. The moment I realized I took too much margarine as I went back for the final swipe, I heard Mom say, "I always try to take the exact amount I need so I don't get toast crumbs in the margarine." I placed the butter knife atop a Kleenex I had used for some minor wipes and swipes this morning and knew I would use this relatively clean tissue to swipe off the knife before I placed it in the dishwasher. I heard Mom again, "I just rip part of a paper towel off to clean off the knife ..."
Yes, I hear you Mom. I always have and I can only assume I always will. Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment