The days after loosing someone close to you are chaotic. You find yourself torn between your required obligations and the need to just break down. Arrangements have to be made, debts have to be settled, and lots of decisions overwhelm you. Looking back, I remember thinking how surprised and loved she would have felt toward so many people turning out for the funeral, but still to this day run into people who say they talked with me when they were there that I can't even remember seeing. It's like you're on autopilot, just trying to get through.
She looked peaceful. I placed pictures of her grandchildren in her casket, along with a recent ultrasound picture. Of coarse, the familiar cramping returned along with the bleeding, and I found myself leaving the grave site to go back to the hospital. They admitted me for a couple of days for observation. Then I returned home on bedrest....again.
We couldn't afford both house payments, especially now that we were down to 1 income, so loosing her house was inevitable. It had to be emptied. I told relatives to take what they wanted and choose a few things for my children. We were a family of 4, soon to be 5, living in a 1000 sq ft house. Storing things was not an option. Everything left was strung out in the yard next to a yard sale sign. I found myself giving things away to people who stopped. It hurt to see her things so cheaply displayed. They weren't worth much, but it was all she had.
She was a coffee lover. The smell of a freshly brewed pot would immediately hit you in the face when you walked into her home. We spent a lot of time at her kitchen table, figuring out problems, talking and laughing with a good cup of coffee, as if it were some magical fix all elixir. At the time, I never realized it's significance, but still today cannot drink a cup without thinking of her. After everything was gone, I brewed 2 cups and went to mom's one last time. I sat there in that empty house, where the table used to be, starring at her untouched cup and trying to feel her presence in some way. It wasn't there.
I tought of my baby who had already had such a hard life and it hadn't even began yet. I thought of her being right there in the delivery room when my other two children were born, and how difficult it was going to be this time without her support. I thought of every fight we ever had and every mean thing I had ever said to her. I rembered she never wanted that house, and only moved there to be close to me and my kids. She had always wanted my eldest daughter to have it. I couldn't even do that for her.
Throughout my life, my mother was my safe place. We fought regularly but whenever one of us had a problem, the other would be our 1st call. I ran to her when I was living with my dad and I had problems at home. I ran to her when my 1st marriage fell apart and I was alone and scared with a week old baby. I ran to her when I was an unwed mother, pregnant with my 2nd child. I wanted to run to her now. I wanted to sit at her table and talk to her about my baby, my relationship, my life. More then anything, I just wanted to hear her voice.
I prayed, asking God why he had taken her and left me all alone. I still needed her. Then, Brad came to check on me. He had literally been right by my side the entire time, talking to me, checking on me, and making sure things got done and the kids were okay. Once again, the coffee seemed to have worked it's magic as I realized I wasn't alone. Though we had a rough start, God knew his plan. He sent him to me when he did because he knew this was coming and I would need him to get through this. I honestly don't think I could have survived it without him. He knew I needed this baby too, only then, even I didn't realize how much.
No comments:
Post a Comment