Dear Mom . . .

Adult Angel

Today (27 November 2014) is exactly one month since you closed your eyes for the last time and left this mortal earth for a better life way beyond our comprehension.

Mom Solo

As I sat having breakfast this morning, I remembered our last morning together. How you grew impatient waiting for me to go through our morning ritual, getting you ready for Aunty May who was going to take care of you for the day while I was at work.

I remember how you asked “why are you taking so long?” when I had only just sat down to have my own breakfast. A few minutes later you said “I don’t hear any spoons!” which meant you were not convinced that I was still eating my cereal. Then while waiting for me, you said a little prayer . . .

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I awake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen”

The little prayer was followed by:

Take me now, Lord. PLEASE!!!

We struggled to get you into a sitting position, we eventually gave up trying to brush your teeth and proceeded to give you some breakfast and your medication. I felt so bad hurting you while I was changing you and getting you ready for the day, but there was no other way. No matter what I did it would have hurt. I apologised more than once and asked you to forgive me for hurting you. You said it’s ok. You said you forgive me.

I kissed you goodbye a little more than I usually did. I did not like the look in your eyes when I said goodbye. My heart told me to stay but my head told me I had to go to work, after all, Aunty May had already arrived to take care of you. She went to a lot of trouble to get to our house that early in the morning. I could not change my mind now and send her home again.

Mom at my 50th birthday party in Feb 2014

Mom at my 50th birthday party in Feb 2014

I left home with a very heavy heart that day, desperately wanting to stay home with you. I wanted to be there when you took your last breath. The Lord had other plans, though. He did not want me there. He wanted to call you home when you were alone, that is why He made sure that even Aunty May was not in the room with you when you took your last breath. You were alone mom. I did not want you to be alone. I so desperately did not want you to be alone . . .

Today Zoë danced in her last ballet concert. I was able to watch her dance for the first time because they used a venue which was accessible for me. I know you were there in spirit mom, but you were not physically present with us. We missed you mom. Zoë is such a talented little girl – our little star. The children wanted me to come home with them after the concert. Tami invited me for coffee at their place but I chose to come home instead. Tami looked like she was coping, like it was just another ordinary day for her so I could not go home with her and her family thinking that she did not feel the same way I do about today.

The three girls at my 50th this year

The three girls at my 50th this year

I felt so alone while driving home . . . so alone!

Why do I get so sentimental about everything when Tami is always so flippant and nonchalant about everything?
Why do I always take things so seriously and attach such a huge amount of sentimentality to everything when Tami acts like she doesn’t care?
Am I wrong to feel the way I do?
Why am I so sensitive?

These are all the questions going through my mind as the tears streamed down my face while I was driving home. I felt so alone . . . so desperately alone.

While I was driving my cellphone rang. Someone left a message. When I checked my phone at home it was from Tami thanking me for coming to Zoë’s concert and saying that she hopes I got home safely and she hopes I sleep well tonight. I responded by thanking her for inviting me to Zoë’s concert and said that I’m just not in a good head space tonight for socialising and therefore chose to come home instead. I was surprised when she admitted that she is battling today as well. Wow! so I’m not alone after all. I was so happy to hear that.

Mom (solo) laughing

Tonight I walked into your room after sunset for the first time to close the curtains. Up to now I’ve always made sure I closed the curtains before sunset to avoid having to switch the light on. Touching the light switch when the room is dark takes me back to when I had to wake you at midnight and at four in the morning for your medication. So instead of switching on the light in your room, I left the dining room light on so I did not walk into your dark room and did not need to switch the light on in your room.

After leaving your room I went to the kitchen to get something to eat. I cried some more while preparing my supper. While having supper I cried and could not stop crying. I paused for short periods in between and cried some more. I don’t understand why but I tend to always start crying just when I’m at the point of swallowing my food. I’m a strange person!

Does this mean the numbness I’ve been feeling up to now has lifted or am I going back to being numb after tonight?

I still have so much more tears stored in the well inside of me just waiting to come out, but they come out in cloud bursts. The tears stop as suddenly as they start.

I don’t know when they are coming – what will trigger them. The tiniest thing seems to set me off.

I miss you mom!

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2 thoughts on “Dear Mom . . .

  1. Pingback: In Memory of Mom: Compassion and Support | africandream01

  2. Pingback: In Memory of Mom: Life is a Journey | africandream01

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