I wrote this over a week ago, but decided to put it aside until I got back from a much needed detour to Chicago with my son. So it’s a little late in being posted…
It’s August 5th, 2017.
One month in and I have to say that I might be a bit envious of the Jewish custom of mourning...
or at least the idea of it.
If I am understanding things correctly and did my research on a legitimate website, it is the Jewish custom to have a dedicated period of time, occurring in five stages, in which they mourn the death of a loved one.
The first stage is called Aninut, which is an intense period of mourning between death and burial.
The second and third stage is called Shivah, which is a 7-day period following burial, with the first 3 of those days being characterized as a more intense degree of mourning.
The fourth stage is called Shloshim, which is a 30-day period of mourning.
And finally, the fifth stage is called The First Year, which is observed by the children of the deceased.
Granted, there is much more to this custom than I am writing but you get the idea, right?
There is an ACTUAL PERIOD OF TIME SCHEDULED in one's life in which they FOCUS on GRIEVING the LOSS of a loved one.
My days of mourning have been all over the place…definitely not scheduled…or very focused.
This is not necessarily a bad thing, but I sometimes just want to
sit
in
my
sadness.
Can anyone relate to what I’m saying?
I don’t want to sit in it forever…
Just for awhile.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There have been days that I wake up crying…unexpectedly.
Literal tears flowing out onto my pillow as I.am.waking.up.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Days where I am neck deep in
kids.
county fairs.
sports.
laundry.
cooking.
The list goes on…
and just don't have time to think about the deep loss that occurred just
32. days.ago.
(Wow. 32 days. Can it be? It seems like yesterday, but I remember every.single.detail.about.that.day.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Then there are moments that I am simply numb.
I find it difficult to return phone calls to those who knew my mom over her lifetime, and who want to take me back in time as they tell story after story of their lives together.
But I ALWAYS love hearing their stories.
Always.
It’s just mentally exhausting sometimes to pick up the phone and go to that place.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are moments that I suddenly tear up because of something the kids did that my mom would have loved to have heard or seen…
but she's not here.
A few years ago, Mom gave the kids one of those books where you can record your voice as you read the story.
The one she gave them was The Night Before Christmas.
This was at a point that she and I were not on the best of terms, and quite honestly, I had a hard time hearing her voice
over
and over
and over again,
as the kids listened to the recording of her reading the story to them and telling them how much Grammie loved them.
I truly had no idea what a BEAUTIFUL and PRECIOUS gift that was is to them...
what a BEAUTIFUL and PRECIOUS gift it was is to ME.
I am so glad that we still have that book and that I didn’t "accidentally" put it in the give-away pile or hit the delete/re-record button.
Believe me, I wasn’t beyond doing something like that…unfortunately.
I’m not quite ready to listen to her voice on that recording yet, but I can still hear her voice in my head.
There will be a day that I will be ready and will want to hear her audibly, and when that day comes, I know just where to find it.
Side note…I’ve been told by many people that I sound just like her.
In fact, a couple of her childhood friends to whom I recently spoke with over the phone, were actually taken aback when they heard me speak and laugh. They said that if they didn't know better, they would have thought they were talking to mom.
What a BEAUTIFUL and PRECIOUS GIFT to THEM.
If they saw me, they’d have thought they were seeing her also.
I am glad that I can finally embrace the fact that I do look like her.
—————————————————————————————
This past Wednesday (8/2) marked the 5th Wednesday since she went Home.
It was the 1st Wednesday that I didn't consciously mark that day in my mind.
Until….
I talked to my dad.
Actually, I didn’t even realize what day it was until after I had gotten off the phone with him.
I had only spoken with him once since my mom died.
All was fine until the tail end of our conversation when I began to listen intently to his voice.
My Pop’s voice.
The voice that I’ve known since I can first remember.
The voice that has always been
strong.
positive.
courageous.
reasonable.
wise.
safe.
loving.
reliable.
unconditional…
And I was hearing it LĪVE.
Not Memorex.
(ha! A little nostalgia for those of you who know what I’m talking about. “Is it live or is it Memorex?”)
I was missing my mom and while we’re at it…missing my dad, who I had not seen in a couple of years, and was grieving the thought of him not being here one day. Yes, I went down that path in my mind.
Right then and there.
So much emotion was triggered (out of nowhere) at just the sound of his voice.
FYI…This was definitely not a scheduled grief session.
Perspective really changes when you lose someone from this life.
I was hanging onto
every
single
word
he
said
to
me
and had a difficult time responding because the GIGANTIC tears
began
to
drop
out
of my eyes,
and it felt like I had a large, painful bolder lodged in my throat,
and if I tried to dislodge it, it would cause a
torrential
river
of
tears
to come pouring out and would never let up.
However, I kept it together…mostly, until after we hung up, and then I jumped into that river and was carried down stream
for
awhile.
I didn't stay there for long, but just long enough to allow myself to go to that place.
I allowed myself to miss my mom and feel that deep loss.
Definitely not scheduled…but focused grief.
—————————————————————————————
This may all sound quite melodramatic to you, but I’ve always been a bit melodramatic…
so it's fitting.
And please don’t get me wrong…
I KNOW I will see my mom again…in heaven.
By the sweet grace of God, I will.
Joy!
A BEAUTIFUL reunion that has been
scheduled by God
and
will be
will be
focused on
Him.
http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/282506/jewish/Soul-Talk.htm
