Death Year

This will probably get dark so ... if you're wanting funny Glenda - come back later.  I'm tapping into my dark side and getting it all out.

I am 38 years old.  I have three children aged 14 (almost 15), 12, & 4.  My birthday is August 7th.

My mother was 38 years old.  She had six children aged 17, 15, 12, 10, 9, & 4.  Her birthday is August 10th.  She died on December 27, 1977. 

This is my death year.

It totally messes with your head. 

My mother is Epic in my mind:  all-knowing, brave, strong, funny, smart, a consummate reader, talented writer.  She's everything I want to be in life.  She only lived to be this old (as old as I am).  WHAT?!  How is that possible?  How could she be everything in the world to me when her life was extinguished at this point?  It's insane.  It's impossible.  I am nothing.  I know nothing.  I am fallible.  Have I wasted my time?  Not honed all those skills ... or was she not perfect?

Oh, she would be laughing to read that.  She would say something like, "Sister!!  I am NOT perfect!"

I miss my mother.  I really miss my mother.  I'm not naive enough to think we would have always gotten along or that I would have been able to appreciate everything she is, but I do miss having someone who "gets" me like I know she did (or would be able to). 

I had a dream the other day.  I dreamt that I was dying.  I was okay with it until I thought about my children.  At that point I started begging and bargaining to live.  It was too late.  I was dead.  Accepting my death, I promised/threatened to be involved with their lives until they no longer needed me.  Then it hit me that they would always need me.  I gladly accepted sticking by their sides until they joined me in death.  I was okay with that.  Instantly, I started planning how I could be there - without being there through friends, teachers, other women.  What a thought provoking dream.  I really found it interesting.  I really feel like my mother has done that with me so far and continues to place people in my life whom I need or whom need me.  I feel her with me often.  Sometimes, it hurts worse than being alone because I want a hug ... or a good laugh ... both?!

I've been dreading this upcoming day for a long time. This has been a year of many changes.  MANY. There are days when I don't want to go on.  I want to give up and lie in bed all day crying.  I'm not good at that so instead I make myself busy.  Then, when I'm in euphoric busyness I'm able to start looking on the bright side and searching for positives.  It's not always easy, but I can usually pull it off.

This past week has been more difficult.

The kids were with their Dad for Christmas.  We celebrated before since Lily's birthday is the 26th.  I have to admit, I cried my eyes out numerous times throughout the previous week.  I was lonely.  I was sad.  I was mourning.  Today, I got busy.  I did things.  I thought of positives.

I had a breakthrough:  My purpose.  As a stay at home Mom I had a purpose.  I didn't have to justify it.  I didn't have to prove myself, but I did.  I became incredibly efficient.  Menus, cleaning, laundry, extra curricular activities, Ladies' Nights Out, etc. were my job.  I was really good at Mom.  Mom is hard to get used to, but once you're there - cake.  I loved it.  My fulfillment kept me where I was for a long, long time.  Now I'm on unsteady ground.  I don't really know how a few aspects of my life are going to turn out. So ... I'm a bit nervous.  Some days, I don't make my bed(gasp).  My house isn't always perfect.  I don't eat right when the kids are gone.  I don't sleep well either.  I'm learning how to be alone with myself.  It's not always fun.  I'm off to find my purpose!  Where is the Wizard when you need him?!  Do I need a heart?  Courage?  A brain?  A way home?  All four?!!!

I haven't lacked this many answers in a long time.  Somehow, when the kids are with me, it's easier for me to forget caring about the answers.  As soon as they leave I'm left with myself, no answers, and my purpose runs out the door behind them.  It's an interesting debacle.

I started writing this a few days ago.  D day has come and gone.  I don't know how to feel.  It's over.  I've now lived longer than my mother.  How very wrong, but how very exciting.  She wouldn't mind me being excited about the upcoming days which lie ahead, unraveling themselves like a ribbon wrapped around the gift of life.  It's a beautiful thing to be alive.  It's a wonderful experience to love your days. 

In the upcoming minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, etc.  I hope to give my Mother reason to be proud.  If she is with me or sending people to guide me, my wish is to make her smile.  Our lives, our existence isn't measured in time, but in experience and in our purpose for said experience.  My Mother gained the experience she was supposed to have.  She was finished.  As much as I hate to be blunt about it, I believe that.  As many times as I've cried with sorrow from missing her, I believe she left in her own time.

When will my time come?  I have no idea.  My goal is to drain the experience out of this life and then record it -- because life is simply beautiful.  I'm glad to be alive.

I miss you Momma.