Vulnerable, for what it's worth

my family - December 2006

On this eve of the second anniversary of my mom's death, I don't know what I'm feeling. Or how to feel. Or something. Or nothing. (Don't mind me; I know I'm not making sense.) Three hours ago, I left church nearly in tears. Right now I'm dry-eyed and emotionally flat. I "feel" like I should feel something, like I should be able to muster up some sort of emotion, but I can't. Not that I want to make myself feel some sort of fake sadness, but surely there's something there somewhere; how could there not be? But the nearly-overwhelming grief of a few hours ago has disappeared, which, though, in a way, is a relief, is also unsettling. Why can't I feel anything?

Yet this has been the trend over the last 24 months of my life; sometimes I miss my mom so much I can't hardly breathe, and then other times --even mere moments later-- I'm as unemotional as if this had happened to someone else entirely. I have yet to get over the surreality of losing my mom; much of the time it really does just seem like I'm in someone else's dream or, worse yet, that she was never here in the first place and life has always been as it is. Maybe that's why I usually hate talking about this; it forces me to admit that that part of my life is over -- the part when I talked to my mom every day, regardless of whether we were in the same town or whether I lived 1,000 miles away; the part when regardless of what I was facing or what decision I had to make, she was there to encourage and support me; the part when I always knew that no matter what, my mom loved me and was praying for me. For 23 years and 11 days, she was there for me. And then, all of a sudden and without warning, she was gone.

Coping now, or going on, or whatever you want to call it, can be so paradoxical: most of the time, though I'm not necessarily thinking about it, I know that she's gone; other times, I'll pull a card out of my mailbox and think, for a fleeting moment, that it's from her. Most of the time, I can function like a fairly normal human being; other days, I nearly fall apart over nothing (my sincere apologies to any who witnessed the greater frequency of this a few weeks ago). I don't know if this is normal, or if I just keep going back and forth between under- and over-reacting, or what. What further complicates things (though it probably wouldn't, if I could just manage to not over-think everything) is these times when my emotions don't correspond with how I think I should be feeling and then I wonder how people will view it (as if that truly mattered) if I'm happy on a day that I "should" be sad, or vice-versa.

I don't really know why I'm writing this, besides, perhaps, to attempt to sort out and explain my tangled thoughts. I would much rather write --and post-- something cheerful and positive and uplifting (certainly not something such as this that leaves me so very vulnerable), but at the moment, that wouldn't be real. And I'm tired of pretending that everything's always ok. A lot of the time it is; sometimes, though, it's not. And other times, like right now, I don't really know what it is; it just is.

Anyway, if you've managed to read this far, even if (likely) my ramblings made no sense to you whatsoever, I would appreciate prayers for myself and for my family, particularly tomorrow, as we remember my mom and celebrate her beautiful life. Thanks to all who have already been praying and encouraging and who have just been there to give a hug or to listen or to "weep with those who weep." I love you all and appreciate you so very much.

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. (Revelation 21:4)