Today we spent time learning about Moses's death in Deuteronomy. We learned how he was in perfect health at the ripe old age of 120 and God told him that he was going to go up the mountain to die. Beth pondered at how perhaps he was worried, nervous, scared even. She said that perhaps his legs were like lead as he walked up that mountain. But I am not so sure that this is the case. My mother, who died unexpectedly, was so ready to meet her maker. She had recently told us that she felt like it was time for her to go to heaven and that she was excited at the idea. She had once mentioned something about when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, that if it had been her, she would have been upset with Jesus. Why would someone who has seen heaven be okay with coming back and living on earth? Isn't that such an interesting perspective? She was always so eternally focused, and my guess is that Moses was too. I bet he was excited to see the Promised Land and be able to finally rest at the feet of God. I bet he was excited to finally see the face of God.
After Moses died the Hebrews spent 30 days of mourning. This was and is a customary time and form of grief for Jews; it did not mean that no tears were spilt after the 30 days, but that time was spent entirely for grief. Beth said that they didn’t have to have “healthy grieving” over a 5 year period spent on the couch of a psychiatrist; they were able to take an ample time to just let it all out. This actually made me envious. I have said so many times that as a mom I did not get bereavement time, I did not get to call in to work. I am a mom. I had to be present for my kids, and quite frankly, my dad needed me in that first week too. I had to grow up and take care of everyone around me. It is 19 months later and I still have not been able to grieve the loss of my mother! Every time I start to feel it, I have to bury it, because I NEED those 30 days to do nothing. I need to be able to lay in bed and cry for 30 days straight. As soon as the reality hits me, I feel like I can’t move, I fall to the floor, it takes me over completely. I cannot function with the knowledge that my mother, one of the most important people in my entire life, is dead. I cannot do it. I envy those Hebrews. I envy that they got 30 days to just grieve.
She then spoke of a woman who was like a mother to her and she gave very vivid imagery of standing at this woman’s casket taking her in, longing to hold her hands again. It instantly took me back to my mom. Only my dad, Raul, and I got to see her, as we did not do a viewing, per her request. She did not look like her. She actually looked scary, but with the faithfulness of God, I cannot remember that image. Isn’t that so sweet of him? I do, however, remember her hair that day, touching her cold hands, and longing with all of my being to crawl into that casket and lay with her. I have spent so much time in my life laying by my mom, just being held by her and I long for that to this day. It is one of the only things that can comfort me and I longed for it then and I long for it now. The imagery that Beth used even talking about the woman’s knuckles hit me so profoundly and gave me an even more intense ache for my mom.
Even with how tough today’s study was, I left there feeling renewed. I left there with the desire to change and to rectify the relationships that I do still have. I have made mistakes in my marriage, and I have a new desire to fix them. I have a new, deep love for my husband and I long to make our relationship work. We have been struggling recently and I so desperately want to get back to the point where we are best friends. I have to make some changes on my side, cut some stuff out of my life, but I am willing to do whatever it takes. Sometimes I get so lost in missing my mom that I miss out on what I still have. Sometimes I shut down and don’t feel because it is easier than feeling the pain and the loneliness that comes with the hole in my heart that my mom left. But when I choose to be a numb zombie, I choose life without relationship and that hurts the people around me.
For those around me that I have shut out, this is my deepest apology. I love every one of you and appreciate your presence in my life. I cannot “get over” losing my mom and I will never be the same, but at some point I truly do hope that I can be better. I hope that I can be a better, stronger, more loving person than I ever was before.
If you made it all the way to the end of this long drawn out blog, bless you. I love you!
