Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Dear Mom, Happy Birthday.
I woke this morning to the sound of thunder. The sky was still dark as ink. The booms weren't distant although my mind was off drifting. You were there. Then my alarm went off only a few minutes later catapulting me to consciousness, but I could hear that I wouldn't need to rise and shine just yet. While the sky was rumbling now rather than roaring, it was apparent that there would be no sun salutations from the shore or beach-side birthday conversations with you today.
You know all too well how I dislike when things go astray. I'm not a big fan of Plan B. I intended to welcome the day on the beach as the star we know as the sun ascended from lake to sky only Mother Nature had other plans. If I'd just listened to the weather last night perhaps I would have too. But it's okay. The morning has been nice. Quiet. Communal. Cathartic.
I'm okay Mom. I miss you something fierce, but I also carry you with me all the time and everywhere. I feel you around me...shoring me up, shining down on me, brightening my life, leading me to light and truth...to what really matters. That's probably why I feel drawn to the beach and the sunrise on this particular day. Your 68th birthday. The eighth I've celebrated without you. Life is one big metaphor that's for sure. A lifelong test.
I won't be taking a long walk, picking apples with Lily this afternoon or having cocktails with Jess beside the river this evening. Life has a funny way of throwing us curve balls, but then you certainly know that and glowed with grace in spite of them. I don't like them, but these...these are the kind I can handle. I'll go to church instead of the park, pick apples another day and have drinks somewhere else tonight. That's nothing in the grand scheme of things...the grand scheme of losing you before I was ready. But then I can honestly say I would never have been ready, there is no such thing as enough time, I will always want more. I can also say that when I think of you now, I find myself smiling more often than crying. And when I see you in my dreams, you are happy and healthy.
This morning Lily wished you a happy birthday before she wished me a good morning. That granddaughter of yours already knows how deep and everlasting the mother/daughter bond is. She asked me if I was sad. I told her I wasn't at the moment, which seemed to offer her relief and puzzlement too. I shared that I feel so lucky to have had the time I did with you because we didn't waste any. We were close, connected and cherished and that hasn't changed. There are so many things I wish were different Mom, but even more that I'd never change and I can live with that. I have to live with that. I have to live without you.
I love you Mom.