No Words
Shock and denial can be incredibly strong and powerful tools. I feel like a petulant child wanting my mom back. Not the sick one, but the one who had superpowers. Who could find a way of making everything ok in the midst of chaos. Who understood my fears, panic attacks, visions and dreams. Who would figure I would be crying on the flight home? And the flight attendants didn't have tissue. Use toilet paper :) my mom always had a tissue or two tucked up her sleeve, cough drops in her purse and whatever the hell else you might need.
I always figured myself to be my dad's daughter, but I am my moms daughter too. Relying on her for work/career advice, she would give me that nudge when I needed it. I love to cook and actually have a natural flare for it (don't tell anyone). Mom and I used to cook and bake together, the kitchen was our space. Lately my Sunday conversations were about what I bought at the farmers market and what spectacular dishes I was going to make.
My mom is dead. I don't even know what that means. I just talked with her a few days ago. She was tired, that's all.
Then on New Year's Day I got the call. Hospice is saying days, you need to come home now. What?! In the middle of a major snowstorm? I knew I had to get home the next day. I try to book a flight thru standby on United, which does not fly direct home. All the connections out of the hubs were canceling - Newark, Chicago, DC. I book a direct on delta for $710. One way. Fuck me. I don't even know how long I will be gone, can't book a return ticket yet. I pack very light as I don't want to check luggage - minutes count here. I talk to a friend that evening, realizing I need to pack nice clothes for a memorial service for my mom who is not dead yet. I sleep for 2 hours, wake up and a friend drives me to the airport. I check in and for the first time ever on an early morning flight, don't order coffee and a bagel. Instead I get a water and egg and cheese sandwich.
Then the 4 1/2 hour flight, during which I meditated and prayed. I get off the flight, hustle to arrivals, see my sister, and she gets out of the car. I say she's gone isn't she. She shakes her head yes, hugs me and I get in the car. Tears. Interesting where the brain goes on 2 hours sleep. Shock. And definitely denial, but I thought, hell, I don't know what I thought.
Flying back home now, I see the mountains, and the last two weeks don't feel real. Moms not dead, I just went back for a visit, stayed with friends, practiced yoga, shoveled snow, and visited with my sister. And there was some kind of a memorial service in between where we talked about mom. I have saved voicemails from her. She says be good to my daughter, she's special you know. I love you. See you soon.
Looking at the mountains and the fog, it all seems surreal. Like a dream. I will come back in a few months and hold her hand again. Go to Hallmark. Wendy's. I will call her and she will ask me what I'm fixing for dinner, what did I do today, what do I like most about work. Don't go hiking alone. I'm proud of you. You are so adventurous. You're so brave. Don't worry about what others think. You will find your way. You're so smart.
I will miss you Mom, no doubt. We will continue to write.