It was close to 1 a.m., but I had just read Michelle's New Year's Resolutions and wanted to share them with Pat. He was still awake due to our getting home late from an all-day planning meeting with the church board held at a member's beach house two-hours from home. (To keep you from getting jealous, I walked down to the beach to only wet my feet at 7:30 p.m.-- after the meeting).
We laughed and laughed as I read through Michelle's list of resolutions--Oh! how I missed her. I turned off the light but sleep wouldn't come. Then I had an "existential moment"-- possibly brought on by many different factors. Who am I, afterall? I used to be the primary care giver for four precious children who now live independent lives far from me. So who am I now? The question hung in the air. I didn't know. My identity used to be so closely intertwined with theirs, but this independence thing is supposedly life. Moving from center stage to the periphery is tricky business. The timing has to be right--the lines well thought out. It would not do to throw a wrench in the works to prevent the cycle from progressing. (I just heard of a mother who called her married son twice on his cell phone during Christmas dinner). Hot tears started rolling down my cheeks and I looked up at the ceiling and asked God, "Is there a balm in Gilead? Is there?" I kind've expected God to mystically reach out to my soul when I realized instead that human arms were hugging me. My husband was tenderly smoothing down my hair, and in the silence touched my face, held my hand. And in that moment I knew we were not alone, that a third person was present--God himself, my Father, and his embrace was the balm I had been asking for.
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7 comments:
I miss you terribly, too, Mom. You were an incredible mom, all our growing up years, but the thing is, you still are, miles and miles away, I know, but still very close to my heart. You will always be.
Michelle
That was so beautifully put. For some reason I thought I was the odd mother who was having trouble finding her identity now that her kids are gone. This has to be one of the most painful times in my life and you're right. I don't want to throw a wrench in the wonderful process of my children growing up and not needing me anymore. However, sometimes I just feeling like throwing a wrench jsut for the purpose of venting. Thanks for sharing your heart!
I often think about my Mom and me living most of our lives apart from each other while I knew only a tiny percentage of what was going on in her life. When we left for Brazil in l974 a phone call home was unthinkably expensive, so we had to rely on letters and for a time my family circulated a cassette tape around. Yet somehow it doesn't seem right and now I live the same experience with two of my kids. I often ask myself: "Is this really how life is supposed to be?"
Thanks for your comments, Michelle--very sweet.
Sorry about the double entries. I'm still tryingo to post properly. My confusion lies in that I have two google accounts and I'm not sure how to negotiate them. Anyway, I like the second one better!
I too have lived apart from my mom most of my life (since age 20) only the distance between us has been unbridgable in this life. How I wish I could send her an email!
Diane
Separation and life seem to go hand in hand. I, too, have lived most of my life separated from my mother. No amount of travel on this earth can bridge the distance. How I wish I could send an email off to her! Someday we will all be together - forever!
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