its been two years....

I am sitting here at my desk, with my kids running around, screeching, slamming doors, knocking each other over, and being generally wild.  My intent and purpose in being here is to read a chapter of my sociology book and take a quiz.  Somehow as I sit here with intentions of being productive, in the ninth hour of course, I cannot get into the groove of homework.  I can blame it on the distraction of the kids, but in reality it is the gravity of sadness on my heart today that keeps me from my work.

Over the past two years, I have stuffed grief, been in denial, and put on a smile in order to be strong.  Somehow this front isn’t working anymore.  God is breaking down the giant walls of Jericho and each stone is crumbling down.  I am suddenly beginning to grieve, to accept that it all wasn’t just one big nightmare and that yes, my mom really did die. 

There are parts of me that are raging with anger.  I am mad at her for taking the risk with the medications she was on, anger with my dad for allowing her to, anger with God for putting her in pain in the first place, for not allowing her to sleep, and making her so desperate that she would take such risks.  Most of all, I am so bitterly upset for my kids.  They lost their “real mama”, Kylie lost her best friend.  I have a six-and-a-half year-old who lost her mama, her best friend, her sanctuary at age four and still remembers her in detail.  The girl still grieves her deeply.  She has a scar on her heart.  Every parent tries to protect their little ones from pain, as did I, but this was out of my control, but it wasn’t out of God’s.  He did not have to take her.  I know in my head that God’s plan for us is good, but deep in my heart like a disobedient toddler I question, why?

I have a deep sorrow in missing my mom.  I miss her every day in watching my kids grow up without her in their lives.  I miss her every day in cooking and not being able to call her.  I miss her every day in parenting and not being able to ask advice.  I miss her every day in my frustrations and not having her there to vent to.  I miss her every day in weakness and not having her to pray for me.  I miss her every day in so many other ways.  It is like there is a part of me missing.  This gap, this hole, this canyon is so dark and vast with no way out.  It is empty and lonely and my best friend is gone.

There is part of me that is still in shock, too, along with the anger and the sorrow.  It all came out of nowhere, like a thief in the night, literally.  I was texting her within hours of her passing.  When the officer notified me over the phone, I panicked.  When I was the first to respond to the house after the police, I didn’t know what to expect.  In my mind she had gotten into an accident.  I had not even considered that she would be safely tucked into her bed.  When I got there and my dad tried describing to me how he found her I looked up those stairs, saw their bedroom door closed and panic flew through me. She’s up there?!?

Under the circumstances it was treated as a murder investigation until proven otherwise.  We were all questioned and as I was the oldest child and my dad was in no shape to talk to anyone, the medical examiner called me.  I was the one who notified friends and family.  I was the one who had to step up and think straight.  I had to protect everyone around me and nobody protected me.  This is why I still have flashbacks of that day, like a movie.  They come and take over; sometimes I fall to the ground.  I can hear the officer’s voice on the phone, I can hear the cries of loved ones, but the worst is the flashback of her in the body bag.  Her hair was hanging out or else I wouldn’t have believed it was her in that black bag.  But it was.  The chaplain told us to lay hands on her and I refused.  She told me that I would regret it, and guess what?  I don’t.  I wish I hadn’t seen the body bag.  I wish I could forget the whole day.  I wish I could hear her laugh again, see her smile.  I wish.

I am not sure there is a way to truly heal from this, not sure there is a chance of peace.  It was so sudden, so unexpected and so hurtful.  There is no way to move on, no way to change any of it.  My life is seriously altered as are the lives of my family members and our close friends.  She is part of my identity. 

Will the flashbacks ever end?  Will I ever be able to heal? Will the anger I feel pass?  Will the sorrow ever become joy?  This is my prayer, but it doesn’t feel possible.  I am afraid to hope and be let down.  Year two has been harder than year one.