Two close friends sent news about different stages of death – both came as a text message.
June just received her friend’s dreaded news: the heartbreaking, but inevitable forewarning of a mother’s death. June and I understand that breath-holding stage. Both of us have been there and know the value of connection.
A quick introduction – last summer, June ditched career and city life to return to the land. She has just begun sharing her new life on Morrisbrookfarm – a blog written from a tranquil rural setting in Canada.
Bravo, June! You’ve made the transition from your red Cuisinart Automatic Grind and Brew coffee maker to the good, old-fashioned perculator. Does this mean it’s safe to head to Morris Brook for another visit? Are the bear out of hibernation yet? Hiking blossoms with a tinge of risk.
Another friend, one of my walking buddies, dashed away last week in time for her mother’s passing. Through a text message, the dreaded date of death has been cast in the cement of electronic history. I know the strength of this beloved friend, a mother and grandmother herself, but I hope her walk through grief will kindly bring relief as soon as reasonably possible.
In the midst of grappling with new grief, it’s impossible to understand how a mother “never really leaves us”. Why did people say that about a loved one? What did it mean? Does the spirit just stick around hoping to comfort us? Can it help us and still carry on with its evoluntary process?
After nine years without my mother’s touch, voice, guidance or laughter, I’ve come to an understanding. I’m left with my mother’s Love. I’m reminded unexpectedly and without provocation. I walk through the scent of the talcum powder she used after she “freshened up”. I laugh over a joke we shared. I pick up a book that thrilled both of us. Her wisdom rolls out in my conversations with others. A sharp pain shoots through my left shoulder and I remember how she couldn’t lift an arm because of pain. I drop something and mimic her expletives over clumsiness. A dream brings us together agelessly as though nine years didn’t exist.
Well, they don’t exist. Not when Love’s in charge.