Where Do I Go From Here?


I am at a loss, dear reader.  How do I express myself when I struggle daily to understand my world right now?  I have never been here before, in this state.  This place is new to me and holds no security for me.  I am scattered in a million pieces, trying in vain to keep them together for any length of time.  Grief and pain fill me some days, and other days I feel normal if there is such a state.  It has taken me months to bring myself to this place to be able to write again.  I wonder if this too is in vain.  I believe I am afraid of feeling the pain which writing will bring.  But, maybe in doing so, I can begin to heal.

I have lost my mom, dear reader.  She is finally at peace.  She left this existence October 24 as I held her face begging her to stay.  It was only she and I in her last moments of life.  Reduced to the child within, I kissed her and asked her not to leave just yet.  Yes, I was so very weary, but to live without her was a thought I could not bear in her final moments.  I was not ready to be without her.  I have yet to grieve fully or to embrace the reality she is not here.  I am so grateful her suffering is over, but selfishly my life is empty without her.  I have never known such a loss before.  It was only ever my brother, she and myself growing up.  

In the last two and a half years she and I became closer than we ever had before.  I would sit with her and have wonderfully deep conversations about her life, my life and this existence in general.  Our roles reversed some days; I became the parent and she the child.  There were good days and bad.  The bad days broke my heart.  I have held so many emotions at bay so I could care for her.  It was traumatic to see my mom slowly fade before my eyes.  To know I was helpless against the onslaught of her condition.  To witness her pain, fear and finally the acceptance.  She was so tired of the fight, ready to leave this life and move on to a better place.  I was, and am, the one not ready.  It is hard to face each day knowing she is not here.  I no longer hear the lull of her television, the click of the teapot being turned on for tea, or the clink of a spoon stirring honey in a cup.  Most of all I no longer hear her voice calling to me.  It is an emptiness I cannot explain, and one would have to experience to understand. 

Moms have such a special place in our existence.  They make life less scary, giving us wisdom and guidance, keeping the demons of life at bay.  One could even say it is a superpower they possess.  It is called unconditional love.  We know no matter our condition, right or wrong, we will always be loved without question.  It is there in its purity to cover us, forever.  My heart breaks for those who do not know the love of a mother or mother figure.  I do not in any way take from those who receive unconditional love from other significant people in their life.  I merely mean, in my own experience, a mother's love is one of the most potent forms of expression a person could experience.  I was so very blessed to have encountered it in my own life, and now I cling to the memories of my mom like a thirsty soul.

Where do I go from here?  My life now, literally, is new to me.  This place where my children are now grown, yet I am still quite young; a place where there are many new paths to choose from as if I stand in the middle of a web.  I believe no choice is the wrong choice, but I now must face the question I have so long put aside in asking, "What do I want?"  I am so used to taking care of others, I am a healer after all, and it is the gift I have to give to the world.  I love loving others and touching their life to bring peace to them, if just in a small way.  What I want for my new life will be a daily notion to ponder.  It will be a new journey of discovery of how to channel into this world the love I hold.  No longer bound, I feel like a fledgling bird discovering its way once again.

I miss my mom so very much.  It is an ache of the soul which I know will ease over time, but I honestly hope will never really leave me.  It remaining within me will bring to the forefront her memory, and how intrinsically woven into my life she indeed is.  My beautiful, genuinely loving, gracious, precious mom.  She was seventy-five and much too young to leave this life.  Her fear was she would be forgotten, but how could we forget someone such as she?  Our family will remember, always.

Dear reader, before I end, if there is anyone in your life who holds such a place for you, I plead with you, let them know.  Do not hesitate to express how important they are to you and how much they have touched your existence.  Even if they downplay the importance of the acknowledgment, tell them.

Life is too short and changes on a dime.  Tomorrow is not a promise and yesterday is gone, today is all we have.  Each moment and the memories we create matter.  Do not allow those whom you love to pass this life without knowing how you felt.  Even though I did my utmost to convey myself to my mom, I still do not think it was enough.  I don't know if I will ever believe it was.  Maybe this is the heartache of my inner child wishing for just one more moment to be held in my mother's loving arms and to once more hear the soft whisper of, "I love you."

I want to thank you, dear reader, for being with me on this journey.  Although I didn't write very much as of late, I hope to a lot more.  It will be part of my healing.  Thank you for your patience, understanding, and acceptance in my rambling thoughts.  I hope you have found some form of encouragement in my words.

Rebecca Lee Clark Bishop
1942-2017










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