Nothing

Today was an interesting day, emotion-wise. I spent it in a haze of nothingness. I went to the funeral and felt nothing. I gazed at my mother’s casket and it was as though a stranger was peering through my eyes at the tableau before me.

I did not go to the grave site. I did not want to see my mother’s casket hovering over the open hole that would shortly swallow her up. So, I took the small bear that had been on her casket, was driven home by a true family friend, and got undressed. I crawled into bed with the bear and covered myself. And dreamed the dreams of the undead.

I am grateful that I feel nothing, just a numbness that is all-encompassing. Like a wooly blanket that scratches my face. I wrapped myself in it and allowed the emptiness to fill me.

I still cannot believe that she is gone. That I will never see her again on this side of heaven. I cannot believe that casket that was wheeled past me contained her body. Mama, where are you?

I must move on, away from this loss and on to life that awaits me. It is what my mother would have wanted. She is in an amazing place now. She dwells with the Father and is watching over me now. What she could not do for me on this earth, she is accomplishing in heaven. Loving me. So, I will live my life and it will be a good one.

There will be changes made. I will write and that well. I will show this world who I am and embrace this wild ride called life. I will make my mother proud. I will make myself proud.

See me, world.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Good-bye Mother

Today is a day from hell. I am suffering so, hurting over the loss of mom. I do not know what to do with myself. I just lay in bed, curled up in a fetal position. My soul feels ripped from my chest, leaving in its wake the destruction of a heart torn in pieces.

My sisters did what they could to lift my spirits, telling me that mom was in a better place and all that. I know this, but I still feel lost in a fog of feeling. And yet I feel numb at the same time. Time is standing still while it is also hurtling towards the burial of my mother.

Tomorrow is the day that my mom is put into the soil and her body disappears forever. I do not want to go, but I promised my sister that I would and she needs my support. (Support, ha! I cannot even take care of myself and here I am pretending to stand strong on the behalf of my siblings. What irony.)

I am confused. I still see my mother before me, although I cannot detect her. I imagine her sitting in her wheelchair, eating her breakfast while she watches the Price is Right. Oh, how I wish that she could still be here, even as I rejoice that she is no longer suffering and she has both of her legs and she is not only walking the streets of gold, she is running!

If I could say whatever I wished to my mother, what would it be? Perhaps I will write a letter to her here:

“Dear Mom,

This is your daughter, Cassie. I am missing you far more than I thought I would. I thought that I would be glad that you were out of your misery and that I would just go back to my former life and all would be happy and well. But it has not turned out that way.

I find myself being selfish. I am thinking only of me as I think only of you.

Why wouldn’t you let me love you? Why couldn’t you love me the way that a parent should love a child?

Why did the last months of your life have to be so hard for me? You made life difficult, and almost impossible for me to live. I did my best by you. You did not appreciate it. You showed no thanksgiving for anything. Oh, how I kept wishing that the life that I had with you would be over. And now it is over. But I am not happy about it. I do not feel relief that I no longer have to take care of you. Today, I feel only pain. Pain at the loss of you.

I miss you, mother. I miss you.”

I do not have much to say this day. Except to God. And to Him I have everything to express. Only I cannot get the words past my soul onto my lips. They are locked within me and I am mute. Oh, Lord. Give me strength and pour your mercy on me.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

 

 

 

 

 

First blog post

This is the post excerpt.

Here I am again…choking on the cup of suffering. I find myself searching within to find out why and have come to some rather unpleasant, but life-changing realizations.

One of those realizations is that I have forgotten how to live. Having been hampered by my former illness for so long, along with the dignity-destroying experience of homelessness, topped off with the recent death of my mother (she died on Christmas day) have made life difficult for me, if not impossible, to manage. I am not sure how to go about this thing called life anymore.

I have suffered through so many things in my short life that I scarcely know where or how to begin. I don’t know whether to start with my present circumstances, go back into the past, or combine the two for a more complete glimpse into my life. One thing I do know is this: I am a writer. A very good one. I can promise a blog filled with emotion and vision. I only require an audience. Whether that audience be one or one hundred, I very much want my life to be one that will teach people how to live, how to love, and how to suffer pain without that suffering altering one’s personality to the point of non-recognition. This is almost a laugh to me, as this post is one in which I find myself changed by the sufferings and pains that I have endured in my 48 years of life.

48 years. Wow. That is a number that I never thought that I would see quite so soon. It came upon me so fast that it took my breath away. I had believed that I would remain forever young, or at least not gallop upon the age of 50 so darned quickly. I still remember the days of my youth. My days of being twenty and then my thirties, which were the happiest years of my life. (I know that the word “happiness” would not seem to be one that would apply to my life considering all that I have been through, but that third decade was one filled with some of the most serene and downright happy moments of my life. As I write in this blog, the reasons for my bliss will become clear. Until then, I will stick with what has brought me to this particular posting. And that is a profound sadness and regrets.

I had always thought that I would not be one who would live a life wherein resided regret, but as my existence has unfolded, especially in these past few months, regret has accounted for a rather large portion of my mind’s interior. Especially with the passing of my mother. My last months with her were riddled with regrets, with resentment, with fear, with longing for the closeness that a mother-daughter should bring, with exhaustion at having to care for her in her declining years and ill health. Just so many things to regret and to fear, and through it all, God has been there.

That is the caveat, folks. The existence and the presence of God in a life encompassed by sorrow and suffering, the likes of which brings one to tears and threatens to toss a body straight into the very pit of despair itself, but the saving grace of it all is a heavenly Father Who loves me and has used the very suffering that has brought such misery to set me free. So, I say to sorrow, “Come.” I say to suffering, “Welcome.” For it is those things, along with a host of feelings and emotions that have run the gamut from fears to tears that have caused my life to have meaning, even within a meaningless life. Because the essence of me has lacked purpose and passion throughout these past nine months since I had come to live with and care for my mother. My life was swallowed up in hers and I did not make a move or have a thought that did not include her welfare in it. And now she’s gone. She’s gone and I will never see her again, nor be subjected to her temper or her pushing me away. I will never again have to live the thankless life as a caregiver. Never suffer the exhaustion of arising at the crack of dawn to prepare my mother for her dialysis appointments. So many never agains. Oh, what will I do without the life that I have led for the past nine months! Those months overshadowed my previous life and became the only life that I had, miserable as my existence became. Now I find myself wondering what I will do without the pain. Though my heart is filled with the pain my mother’s death brings to my soul.

I am torn. Torn between two worlds. Both worlds of pain and loss. If I had to choose one life over another, I would hesitate to make a choice, for those two worlds hold unbearable selections. Let me lay my two lives out for your inspection. In Life One: the endless burden of caring for a soul who made life miserable because she was no longer able to care for herself or Life Two: life without the one who has made the misery a daily existence. I cannot choose, for I do not want either life, yet I walk the tightrope of both with wobbly feet on a high-wire hundreds of feet in the air. Both lives are mine. And this is my endless dilemma. Do I continue to walk the wire, or do I allow myself to tumble to the ground with no safety net to embrace me? I can only come to one inescapable conclusion and that is the inconsolable fact that my mother is dead. Will I ever be able to accept her death or will this unshakeable disbelief forever crowd out the new life that cries within me to be released. May the God of heaven help me.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

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