Absence

My thoughts are always so jumbled that it's not usually a lack of things I want to write about that keeps me from posting more often; it's too many things jumping around like a non-stop stream of consciousness.

I recently read Elizabeth Edwards' book Resilience.  It was a gift from my stepfather this past Christmas, and seems a bit of foreshadowing now, in light of her strong focus on the death of her son in a car accident.  John gave it to me with a note saying he thought of it for me because of my own resilience in the face of some significant challenges.  I only hope that I can continue to live up to that description, which I don't really feel worthy of in the first place.

One of the passages that really moved me was one in which she talks about the terrible adjustment after her son's death... "What I had to face was not something present, it was something absent.  And although we can escape something's presence, there is no way to escape its absence.  There was no place to go where he would not also be absent."  Wow.  In many ways, I know I have been trying to escape mom's overwhelming absence.  Because she was a victim, there is a lot of time to search for facts, to focus on fault, details, outcomes, etc.  It's very painful to deal with the concept of an accident, something avoidable, something that "shouldn't" have happened, as opposed to a medical issue, a breakdown of her health or something.  I know somewhere deep down I have had this silly idea that if I could "prove" a chain of events, if I knew everything, I could somehow take it back, make it not have happened.  Coming to terms with her absence is really, really tough.

I keep waiting for a "sign" - a little bird, a whisper, a nudge, a dream where she hugs me and tells me that she is okay, and it just doesn't come.  It makes me feel that she is so very gone and I hate it.  In fact, the only dreams I've had that my mom's friend and I think might be mom's doing are those in which I drink and something horrible happens - which I've had several times.  Mom was so vested in my sobriety and would know that this would provide a severe test, so maybe she sends me these to remind me of the dire consequences of relapse.  If so, thank you mom, but enough with the overkill!  You're freaking me out!

This weekend we will visit the Lake that my mom loved so well.  We have decades of beautiful memories there with her, though I honestly cannot remember the last time she actually got IN the lake.  She liked to curl up with a good book, make homemade ice cream, and just spend time laughing with her family.  There was always so much laughter.  It was wonderful to see her relationship with her parents, still with us and still happy after all these years.  I know that we would have had the same with her and it's a physical ache in my chest to know it's not a part of future now.

I bought a pot of her favorite flowers the other day - the periwinkle colored Hydrangeas - and they rest in the beautiful area of our family room that is filled with her things and her photos.  I love you Mom, so very, very much.   You cannot imagine how much you are missed.