She is gone and she was my friend. Perhaps she is home now...? Is her body sleeping and her soul alive? Is she with her parents and beloved friends.....is Jesus there to greet her? Is she once again smiling with the neighbor ladies? Where is my friend?
I'm not there with her. I'm here. I can't speak about this anymore, but I have so much pain and grief and hollowness.It sits inside me always, waiting, to take me for a spin...I can write and pray for peace. I don't indulge the despair, it captures me and I am descending .........seeking airspace.
Is it possible she is in another dimension, finally free of the physical and mental pain that bound her? That's what everyone says. She has said her good byes. We left no words unsaid, but we left each other. Too much love now lies above me circling me like wings fluttering around my head. I did not feel my good bye to her. Those were words I spoke to her, but I didn't mean it. I was not ready to say good bye.
I see an old garland on a christmas tree.I think of Tinsel. She would put those on the tree. I am cascaded into a sad place again. No one uses garlands or tinsel anymore.. I decorate the tree early, and alone. I am longing.
I have to believe she is in a beautiful garden now. As natural as the sun rising, we are born and we die. But I feel left behind. There was too much love to just....be.....nothing now. How can love feel so terribly gutting....it's a wonder anyone tries to love at all. When the loss, is neverending. I miss this person who happened to be my mother. A friend. Confidant. Loyal, All encompassing. As powerful in death as in life. I can put her in a rose garden.
Still......
Her energy breathes in my blood daily. I almost wish it would vanish. Go away. Enough. Enough. Grief taunts me. Please go.
I covet statues of angels now. I look at them and somehow their beauty pleases me. Some are in my rose garden. But it is November, and there are no roses. Everything is bare. The statues reside there. It is getting colder. . I hide the shameful grief from everyone, and it finds me. I want the pain to be taken I cannot indulge this or encourage it. I cannot hold it any longer. Please, someone, put it in a christmas box and tie it with red ribbon to be put on a shelf. It can reside there with pretty things.
That is what I want for christmas.
Jen
Nov. 2011
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