Friday, June 12, 2009

Ache

I miss my mother. Beyond belief and from the depth of who I am, I miss her. On the outside I am certain this doesn't show, that I am able to conceal this ache for her as I busy myself with work and home and friends and all the moments and people that comprise my life. But it is there, this ache, this longing, this grief.

Early evening is the worst, the hardest. This is the time that was mine with her, became my time with her and even as I recall how I wished I didn't have to go to her room, that small room that had become her world, I ache to be there with her, be anywhere with her. Have her with me.

The middle of the night is bad, too, those hours when I wake and listen to the quiet of my house around me and know she is gone. Those are the minutes, hours, when I search for memories, memories of our life, not her death. Sometimes I find them and when I do I lose her again.

My sister and I visited with our mother's best friend yesterday. It was good to see her, to hear her voice, have her with us. She misses Mom, too. Misses their friendship, their time. We sat at the table, my sister, my mother's best friend, her daughter and me and ached together.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

sigh. well, i finally thought i was brave enough, strong enough to read your blog. i read a few posts, but it is too much for me. you make me cry. i know it is ok, you know the 'okay's' that you all have been saying. (: i will come back soon.
anyway, i thank you for sharing how you feel and how you are coping. i feel a strong sense of your mother here in this house. in fact we have kept her laminated obituary in the kitchen and charlie picked it up the other day and carried it around talking about it. that seems right to me.
it's difficult at times to be here knowing how little time i got to spend with grammie. but i still know it is right that we are her/your family and that charlie is here...i am glad that you are able to share how strongly you feel in writing because sometimes those things just can't be spoken out loud. they are best felt and hard to describe. for some of us. (: