Out Here On My Own

It is surprising to what lengths I will go to keep from breaking down. For so many days in a row, I keep my tears and loneliness buried, pushed under, wearing my mask of happiness while staying busy (running).

  

There are probably many who think my mother’s death is now ancient history. She is gone, grieving has been sufficiently attended to, let’s move the hell on.  Just like a failed love affair, people can only be supportive for so long before they start to think you have perhaps “gone round the bend” with your over-wrought days of pain.

But here is my truth:

  

• I lost my dearest friend in the whole world. Not in the Facebook friend way (God, no) but in the genuine places of my heart that only a few people will ever know. It is pretty empty. 

• As an oldest daughter, Mom was my mentor to aging. She was forging the dark, wooded path through the slithey unknown and I developed a new compassion watching her vanity and lifelong quest for the holy grail of youth give way to something deeper.

• She was the keeper of my secrets. Women have as many of them as men think they do; those sacred things they only say out loud to other women. Mine were safe with Mom. I could go to her with my fear, uncertainty, anger, indignation and desperation to say whatever came out (minus the swear words, of course) but this was a small price to pay for her listening ear and the wisdom of her heart.

I can’t tell my daughters these secrets. They are only for someone who has seen what the future looks like and can reassure me that I can make it; because they already have.

• She was my advocate; always on my side, just the way you dream someone who loves you will be. She was protective and wanted to “choke stiff” anyone who hurt me. She could be wickedly sarcastic and laughing at the absurdity of my situations meant victory…oh how we laughed!

• She was my Xavier; and I was a proud graduate of her School for Gifted Youngsters. I had superpowers when she was around. I was funnier, smarter, more intuitive and happier. Grief has robbed me of them still…I get glimmers, but they fritz out in an instant.

Today is the 2 ½ year anniversary of her death. Saturday will be the 3rd anniversary of the surgery that doomed her and all of us to what is our now.

Yesterday, I melted down. I let the loss of her in... to overwhelm me again. I am vulnerable, scared, uncertain and so very lonely.  I keep waiting for my husband, my aunt, my sisters or SOMEONE to channel all the attributes of my mother, even while I know it is absurd…and impossible.

It is time to talk to someone. A professional.

I can say whatever I want, and maybe even WITH the swearing.

I will let you how it goes…