(This is a repost as I get closer to marking the one-year anniversary of my mom’s death. If anyone else is going through this, I hope it helps.)
Monday was a hard day. My mom is nearing heaven’s door with every breath she takes. I see her footprints getting closer all the time. There are times she reaches with her arm outstretched as though she is, in fact, searching for a doorknob.
In my selfishness, I want to tell her to stay just a little longer. I’m not ready yet.
But instead, I come home and move bricks and broken cement blocks. I spread bark and pull up weeds. I take up old landscape edging, crying through it all. It’s my way of dealing.
It felt good.
The work and the crying.
Then I thought about brownies. My mom loves brownies. This was one of the last things she might enjoy.
I used to always bake her special desserts. If I saw something yummy at the grocery store, I would buy it for her. She has not enjoyed food for a couple of weeks. But I thought maybe, just maybe, she might enjoy a brownie.
Besides, I had to do something for her. It was the only thing I could think of.
A last gift from me to her.
I don’t know how many tears ended up in the brownies.
Isn’t it strange the things grief compels us to do? Like baking brownies for someone who probably isn’t going to eat them, who probably can’t eat them.
But we all handle our grief differently. Is there such a thing as pre-grieving? If there is, that’s where I am.
My husband is scheduled to go on his annual spring fishing trip with my son, grandson, and some other fishing buddies. They go every year and have a ball.
He’s balking about going but I am insisting. I know me. I know that I’m ok with my tears. I’m ok with grieving. He’ll come home if needed and it’s only four or five hours away.
The cycle of life. Death and birth. Since the beginning of time daughters have grieved their mothers. My grief is no different except that it’s my grief.
I think part of trusting God means we learn to accept heartbreak as a part of life as much as joy. Even now God is preparing me for this unwelcome journey.
I do not look forward to missing my mother. I think my tears this past week, (and there have been many of them) are God’s way of letting me know her homecoming is soon. I’m releasing some tears a little ahead of time so when I am needed to think clearly, I will be able to.