A Pearl
When she was ill, the experience was raw and scary, a new and challenging monster of great proportions. My entire life was thrown into a chaos that there was no way to prepare for.
Each day, I coped by taking small bites of my day...just like eating a plate of food...a little bite, another little bite, until the day was done, and I collapsed into bed, knowing that when I awoke, the monster would be there, waiting to devour me again.
I had no crystal ball, and no way of knowing what was going to happen, but in the end, her body fought until there was nothing left to give. She had told people that she wanted to burn out and not rust out. Her wish was granted. Mom didn't rust in any way. She consumed life, she embraced it, she lived. Her death came because her brain, her heart, her digestive system and kidneys said, "We have given everything that we can give. We are now depleted.".
The day she died, Dad, Ian, and I were privileged to stand at her bedside and hold a vigil of love and honor. We prayed over her, sponge bathed her, and talked to her. I had never watched a person pass, so I wondered if I would see recognition in her eyes. Would I know when Christ came for her? Would I see joy in her countenance? In the end, I saw nothing of the sort. I saw that her breathing assistance was removed, and she seemed to struggle for air. I felt a great feeling of disturbance over this. I could see her heart beat in the pulse of her neck. It flicked wildly. Dread filled me. I wanted her to go peacefully, and this felt...wrong. It took an hour of this, and slower breaths, until she breathed no more. It was anticlimactic. We weren't even sure when it happened, did she stop breathing? We had to check to make sure.
I felt empty. There was Mom's body before me. For the first time in my life, she was not with me on the earth. Her body was empty of life. Dad, Ian, and I hugged and cried, and hung out with her for awhile. I was numb, and sad for my Dad, and sorry that Ian had witnessed that. (Yet, I was glad that he was there.) My darling mom was never going to talk to me, or hug me, or laugh with me again.
This past year has been odd. For months, I mourned so deeply that I could literally not think of her illness or suffering. If I did, I would not be able to function. So, I set it aside. I felt disturbed that I could not feel Mom in any way, when I always thought I would be able to.
I wondered if I did everything I should have, or could have. My sadness for Dad was almost equal to my sadness for Mom in her suffering.
A few days ago, I thought about the way I feel. I still cry, but it's not the painful cries of the first six months. Those tears brought literal pain to my head--a great feeling of pressure behind my eyes. The tears would fall copiously.
I have come to terms with certain aspects of my loss. I realize that there is a large part of this experience that has been encapsulated by something like a pearl. I can't, or maybe don't want to access those feelings, thoughts, and memories. As a clam or oyster forms a pearl around the irritant, I have formed a mental pearl around my mourning.
I have learned some things about myself. When I am stressed, I either don't eat, or I overeat. I did the latter for most of this last year, trying to use food as a comfort. That was not a healthy way to deal with my emotions, and I now have extra pounds that need to come off. I didn't want to do much of anything, any small activity seemed like it was a monumental effort. I am finally feeling some sense of wanting to live again, engaging myself more in activities and in life. Most importantly, I learned that I have something of my mom inside me. I found that I am like her in that I can take charge, I can get things accomplished, I can be strong.
For now, I will carry my little pearl within my heart, and maybe as time goes on, the pearl will reveal things to me that still need to be sorted out. I miss my mom and best friend.
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