I don't know what to write. I don't know if I should write. Is it even appropriate? I do know that, again, I don't want to forget what I am feeling...but can I articulate it well? Probably not. (Disclaimer: this post is in the "journal entry" genre, not the "eloquently proclaiming to the universe" genre...look elsewhere for that.)
I've given in to better living through chemistry...a sleeping aid at night and my usual 2 cups of coffee in the morning...I'm not exhausted like I was last week. Last week was engulfed in the activity that follows a beloved's death; wow, had no idea. This week, we've slept in, lounged, puttered without progress; been generally useless. I've had time for my emotions to catch up. Not in an incapacitating way, but in a random, intense downpour of feelings that are all along the spectrum; from melancholy to anger to thanksgiving.
I continue to be in awe and thankful that one of my prayers was answered...to be in the right place at the right time to attend/support/bear this physical avalanche with my mom. Somehow God arranged for me to join Sweet Man out in the world, when she wasn't in freefall from more bad news. And I was beside her in the moments that the avalanche surged and pitched and pelted.
I think He did that for my sake...she didn't need me to be there so much...but if I hadn't been, this all would be unbearable.
Not to mention, Sweet Man and I were together celebrating an anniversary/kids safe in the Valley weekend when the final cascade began. We were able to leave and be involved in her last hours.
SM has been with me...I mean, the prop-up, dry my tears, 'go take a nap-I've got this,' grieving for his own loss kind of way.
On the day before my momma passed, he rubbed her feet (he's the official foot masseur.) When I told her he had stepped out for a bit, she said, "Oh, he is such a man." In the good way. They really loved each other. I can't imagine going through this without him.
Timing...I tell you...my Heavenly Father knows what He's doing, indeed.
But, I am overcome often when I realize things like...I should've taken more pictures of her. From April on, I would think "I need to grab my camera" and then second-guess and not want to make her uncomfortable with a documentation of her hair loss. She did not ever become comfortable wearing her "hair-hats," as Bug called them. She much preferred wearing her actual hats. Very cute, I might add. I would tell myself there would be more time for pictures when she is healthy again. What a mistake...my presumption of her discomfort (not even accurate) kept me from capturing precious moments.
Her body's ability to function plunged from April until August, but her emotion and spiritual soundness didn't. She had 4 months of seeing life more clearly, through the "cancer" lens. She had 4 months of people loving on her. Knowing she is now at the best party ever, reuniting with beloveds, playing her dulcimer with no wrong notes, and singing second soprano like never before is great comfort.
But the preeminent emotion of the week is "I can't believe she's gone"...no more chances to take pictures of her cuddling my babes on the couch, no more trips to Trader Joe's, no more "Hi, it's your Momma" on my voicemail, no more walking me to my car in her driveway to tell me " just one more thing." No more.