I’m sitting here right now at my desk, a glass of wine next to my Fiona bobble head, Air 1 radio playing over my laptop, and trying to figure this out.
See, today I was in a horrible funk. It actually started last night when, after a little wine, my body was craving ice cream. Okay, all darn day I was craving it. PMS? Maybe. I’ve had a hysterectomy and I’m about 4 years into full on menopause but I still get that time of the month anxiety and moodiness 14 years after the baby basket was removed. So I unwisely went and bought a pint of ice cream and another bottle of wine. I ate the entire carton, but I did not open the bottle. I woke up this morning feeling sluggish thanks to over loading my body with crap. Fat, sugar, artery clogging crap. And you know what? I didn’t give a flying frog’s ass.
I spent most of this day fighting with feeling exhausted one minute, then energy to spare the next. And the restlessness, oh that agitation of not being able to sit still, then finding myself cat napping in the middle of reading. Never mind that nothing I read was being absorbed into my brain, I was trying. Up and pacing, sitting and snoring. I thought I wanted more junk food but that didn’t seem to help one bit. Neither did the coffee I made, 3 pots throughout the day that mostly got cold in my cup before being dumped down the sink and topping off the mug. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And I cannot shake it off right now to save my life.
A little while ago I reached out to my cousin via text, the one who lost her mom about 2 weeks before mine died, asking if she goes through this and yes, she is familiar with this bizarre dance as well. Either it is part of the process or we are bat sh*t crazy. As I told her, either is equally likely.
I don’t believe in coincidences or accidents. As a follower of Christ I believe everything happens for a reason. We both lost our mothers the same month. We had recently reconnected through, of all things, crocheting! We have a group of cousins and now friends who gather one Friday night a month, the Friday Night Hookers. And I was working when her mom was admitted to the nursing home memory unit years ago before I changed jobs. We bonded all over again, like we had as kids riding tricycles at grandma B’s house. Now we need each other to navigate these seas of grief that we have no clue how to sail. Instead of flying down the driveway and sidewalk on old 3-wheelers, we are drinking too much wine and learning how to do life without our favorite instructor, best friend and nurturer…our moms. And let me just say THIS FREAKING SUCKS! We were both blessed to have been close to our moms, had great relationships with them so the loss cuts deep. And despite all the stuff written on grieving and mourning, there is no way around it. No way to make it easier. You have to go through it, live it, feel it, embrace it and digest it in order to get past it. And the pain, I’m told, never goes away we just learn to live with it.
It has been weeks since I had the thought as I sat in the bathroom (sorry for the TMI), “this is where she took her last breath, her heart had its final beat, where she blinked and was gone…dying right here as her body crumbled to the floor”. But not today. Nope, on this particular rotation of the earth it is there every time I use the commode. I fluctuate between frustration and anger, wanting desperately to break something, smashing the item into a million pieces, and longing to hug her and hear her say “I love you” one more time. There is no peace in me today, just a storm of emotions. Raw, unchecked emotions. This would not be a good day to piss off the marvelous one, believe me, you couldn’t be sure what the response would be but the curtain would be going up on one hell of a sh*t show!
I’m angry. Mad as hell. Not at God, or mom, life or anyone…just pissed. Oh I’m thankful that I was able to pay off my car, thanks to a nice little chunk of money mom was able to leave each of us. Grateful baby sister was able to put hers down on a new car and get rid of the one she was driving that had no A/C and seemed to be a money pit. But we’d gladly give it all up to have mom here instead. And when I say that I feel so selfish. She was in pain and so nauseous those last weeks. She stoically went through her days not letting on how bad things were, but since she had her priest give her last rights 2 weeks before her death it is safe to say she knew it was coming. She never told any of us how close it was, that she knew it was around the very next corner, at any moment. She didn’t burden us with it, just kept her chin up and smiled through the worst of it all until she knew me and my sister were settled in our new places (barely) and then she left us. I also don’t believe it was her choice, the bible clearly says the number of days we have is already determined and known by God, but something in her knew it was coming up fast and she needed to line up those last ducks before going home to heaven.
Tomorrow will be totally different. I know this because every day so far of the past 57 days has been unique, so no reason to expect it to change. I will get up, go to church and absorb the loud music, the energy of the presence of God among His children as we praise Him and lift up our hearts and souls to Him. But for now, I’m just sitting here, sipping my wine and resisting the urge to take my arm and sweep it across every flat surface in my apartment, crashing and smashing everything to the floor.
I’m going to go call my cousin, Mary. She just sent another text so I know she is still up and could use some whine/wine time too.