Saying Hello

Today I visited my best friend in the early morning before dawn.

I sat next to her and we enjoyed the silence together.  After a few quiet minutes, I talked.  She listened in that silent sympathy that is our relationship now.  I explained about Aiden and how he is growing and how I wish I knew what this little beautiful spirit is destined for.  Greatness, I hope.  I cried in grief and talked more.  She listened more.  I told her of leaving my messy house this morning for the daily grind.  And how that weighs on my heart.  The daily grind part and the missing her to talk to every day.  I talked of my visit to the Union Station with my son and how I went to the cafe and they had Hungarian Mushroom soup - like she and I used to order at least once a month.  And how I missed those days.   

And my wonderful best friend didn't say anything.  She just listened and let me cry big fat tears until my eyes were swollen and my nose stuffy.   She listened to my sobs as I remembered the day seven years ago today that we said goodbye and I was alone.  I told her that this time I had to come alone.   Next time, I would bring Aiden again to say hello, but the selfish me wanted to have her all to myself.  

In the early morning before the dawn.  Before the world was moving.  Before my day spirals into unimportant chaos.  

I miss you, Mom.  

Time heals all wounds... well, almost

This week is going to be full of busy work, messy house, and big hugemungous extended family campout with all my siblings and their children.  Annual days of chaos and campfire.  Awesome.  And I have so much to do.

But I came to work this morning earlier than usual and took just a moment to think.  Seven years ago this very week, the scene was much different.  My family was planning a family campout not far from where we will be going this year.  And no one wanted to go.

Seven years ago, my mother was close to dying.  I stood vigil with my siblings in the August heat and the roaming blackouts while my mother slowly, steadily prepared to make her final journey.  But being the stubborn woman that she was, she insisted that my siblings actually go camping because, "I am never going to die with people here staring at me."  I think, secretly, she wanted to give her family the opportunity to have one last gift - the gift of being in a beautiful place during a time of sadness.

But I was so selfish and I could not go with them.  I had been helping my mother for nearly a year and it was hard to break away from that calling.  My sister, Jodi, was there and together were able to be there for my mother.  My mom was so independent, she would not allow us to do much for her, but we did what she would let us do.

Time seemed to slow down that week.  Life came to a standstill and the days of summer just crawled by while we listened to my mother breathe, cough, struggle.   We were so blessed that in the early morning on August 5th, she passed on with the home quiet and the day just breaking.  Dustin bravely drove his ailing vehicle (that was ruined permanently by the trip) to tell the family at the campground.  I will forever have a sad soul the first week of August remembering my mother and losing my best friend.