A broken heart

My heart feels torn apart. We knew it was coming, her death, but how do you prepare for such an event? Only a week ago she was here, laying on her bed, and we talked. Mostly I talked. She listened and tried to comment. Three days later, a text, a phone call, a forty minute drive and I'm in her room again. This time, she can't comment. She can't even blink her eyes. Curled up next to her, tears streaming down my face, my world collapses. My hero dies. So happy she's finally free of pain. So sad she's gone. Peace fills the room, my heart, but an aching sadness sets in.

Restless nights, staying home, crying at the blink of an eye. Trying so hard to be with family--needing to be home. Picking flowers, making funeral arrangements. I avoid all those offering condolences. I don't want to talk. I just want to be. Yet I know I have to face them sometime.

Standing by dad, hundreds come. My mom doesn't look quite right. Her mouth is wrong. There's nothing we can do--she's gone. I barely cry. I mostly have an aching sadness, deep inside. I'm overwhelmed.

My heart is ready to burst. The funeral is tomorrow. I'm supposed to share memories of mom. So many memories--I can only choose a few. Once more, I toss and turn all night. Morning comes too soon.

Finishing last minute details, we rush to the church. Once more I'm the one standing by dad. Too many people--I just want my brothers, sisters, husband and dad. Cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone else can wait--but they stay. I wish she was still here. No tears from me--then they close the casket. My heart bursts, and with it goes my composure. The day is only beginning.

The funeral is a blur, I talk, others talk. My mom's songs are played. I cry a lot. It's both too long and too short. Following the casket out, feeling so alone. There's no parking, people are in my way. I need to get there, to be with family, to see my mom--if only her casket. Finally there, pall bearers bring her body. Her spirit is not inside. I wish again there were less people.

We place pink roses on her casket. They were her favorite flowers. They even smell good--the way she liked them. I break down. Sobbing, I need support to stand. She's gone, really gone. I realize she could have been my best friend--I only needed a little more time. She was taken too soon for me to develop that type of a relationship--like the one she had with my older sisters. I wish I'd tried harder--maybe we could have been better friends sooner. My husband and brothers hold me. My mommy's gone. I feel like my world's ending.

At the luncheon--holding Grandpa's hand. Sadness shared between us, in our eyes, in our hearts. "I think she was my best friend." he tells me. "Me too." I say. Because she would have been. If we'd only had more time.

Sleeping in her spot, wishing she were here. I know her spirit is close, even if her body is gone. Even with that knowledge, I don't know how I'll go on without her; without my mother, teacher, and friend. Relying on God, I pray for strength, courage, and faith. I pray to be more like she was.

I go home to my apartment. Everything is the same as it was when I left, but I will never be the same.

written Sept 4, 2010--the night of my mother's funeral