Sometimes I have these moments where the weight is so heavy on my chest I feel as if it is going to cave in. I fight and fight and fight and then I lose. I give in. I am tired. I am sad. And I finally let the tears flow, quietly, late in the evening when I am alone.
She was not even my mother but she was his mother, she was their grandmother... and she is gone. Without even knowing or realizing it, always around this time of the month, we get crazy. Grumpy, mad, sad. Then it dawns on me - she died at this time - on the 19th. And this 19th it has been six months since she left this world. That sadness is there, hiding, waiting to come out when I am least expecting it.
And that sadness seems infinite. There is no end to it, or so it seems. It is like looking up at the sky late at night and trying to see past the stars with the cold air stinging my eyes making tears well up. I feel like I am trying to see beyond those bright twinkling lights hanging in the sky to the blackness beyond. Looking up at the dark sky I find myself wondering about it all, death and dying and growing old and sick and lifeless, leaving behind all that we work so hard to create, my babies and my house and my husband and all the love I feel all the time.
How fleeting this life is. I often find myself shutting down the thoughts that crop up about this whole subject. But they still creep in. Like water on the shore, they slowly ebb back and forth wearing me down: Wouldn't she have loved to hear about that visit to the Apple Orchard? Oh she would so be here when we need her help to look after the kids in February. Christmas is coming, the first without her, what would she get the kids? She would be proud of him for running, for getting fit again. She would be thrilled to see the baby walk and run and giggle and dance. How different we must look now then we did six months ago? She will never feel arms around her neck or giggle on the phone with him or her or us about the silly things that happen every day, each week of the coming years so many without her.
Then my heart just aches for the things that we all have missed. Those moments and thoughts and times that will never happen again, for her or for us or for them. And because my heart aches and is heavy still and I find a way never to discuss her not with him or myself or the kids because it is too much. Than again not talking only makes it harder still when the weight suddenly appears seemingly out of nowhere.
Even in my past moments of "oh no not the in laws coming to visit again!", I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that nothing lasts forever. This is the heartbreak of our lives. In this life there is no 'forever', there is no way to completely capture everything without missing something. These moments last for only so long and if we blink too much they are gone. I hug and kiss and try to slow down and be calm and breath and let go of things that will mean so little one day, when I am gone.
As I look up into the sky and swipe away those sodden heavy tears, created by the cold or something more, I hope deep in my soul that she is out there. As I dig deeply into a well of ancient beliefs, I hope that she is looking down and smiling, enjoying each scene from somewhere out there in the universe. Then I turn around, go inside and smile and hope follows behind me, at least until next month.