Separation

Have you ever been in a position situation where you need to separate. From your self your body your mind. Some things are too difficult at the moment and you need to put yourself into a mechanical mode of handling dealing resolving. You pull back on your emotions. All business. Distancing yourself from what you cannot possibly comprehend in the moment. Knowing you may crack break fall apart if you try to digest process sort out the whole weight. The burden pain internal scream would suffocate if inhaled all at once.

Instead, you need to take time. Let pieces in slowly. Perhaps over hours days weeks years. Allow it to simmer beneath the surface. Enable your heart to beat strong while it creeps through veins and arteries settling in empty spaces found. Covering old wounds. Smothering former sadness.

(Macy and I will be traveling for her spring break next week and then J.P. and I will join Ella on a different adventure for her break. We planned both of these trips months ago. All of us would prefer adventure to stuff things clutter any and every day.)

What struck me was the possibility of losing my mother while being “unavailable”. So we met with the local funeral home on Saturday. That was enough. That and seeing mom yesterday. Jogging after that with my canine companion was necessary for my mental health. My beating heart distributed my emotion feedback response through blood tissues organs (perhaps evenly) throughout my body. I thought the box was checked. I had moved on.

But what happens when you think you have reached resolution and moved on. When you have shut the door and dropped off the key. There is often another knock.

The phone rang. I was talking to Macy and sorting which of her tiny bikinis I would be packing for our trip. So it went to voice mail.

When Macy and I had finished discussing packing and trip details and her exam schedule for the week. When we had settled on which pieces of clothing and shoes I would be placing in my carry-on for her. When I had informed her that 3-4 outfits would be sufficient and we can wash clothes in the sink. Our typical travel as we are hateful of checked baggage and prefer to travel as lightly as possible.

Then I listened to the message. It was the very nice sweet person we had met at the funeral home. We needed to talk. I called back.

I needed to provide a letter requesting that they take custody of my mother’s body if I/ we should be out of town. We also needed to provide a backup person to identify her body. My sister-in-law won that chosen coveted position. She has experience with identifications and death and loss. She is a nurse.

I also got to learn about refrigeration versus embalming. The challenge is that they are unable to cremate her remains until unless we are physically present to sign off. We are unable to sign anything ahead of time.

And statistically speaking, she should be fine for this short period of time. But what if not.

And will anyone want to see her body after she passes. What should be done in the way of preparation.

(But the girls’ last visit with her was so very painful difficult. We promised assured guaranteed them that they may sit with, keep, maintain, cherish their best memories of her. They no longer need to be devastated tortured hurt to their very cores by seeing this version of her. Better they remember consider share stories with future generations of the games they played. Of laughter as she chased caught put them in her witch pot. Of giggling tickles. Of character changing voices while reading new books to them. Of wizened inspired ways to approach adventure and all things new. Of strength of soul and intelligence of spirit.)

Images of my beautiful gorgeous smiling mom throughout all the stages of my life float on air and surround me. The first set of eyes I gazed upon into beheld. The first voice I heard. The first heartbeat I felt.

(How to rationalize the travesty of time of illness of the slow deterioration of a life.)

I will keep these pictures in my head and watch my slide show whenever the need arises.

(I do not want her fingerprints on jewelry or a lock of her hair.)

I will always carry her touch on my skin. And the sound of her laughter in my heart.

(That door will never close.)