The Maze of her Grief in QUOTIDIEN

Her pain is running deep, these days. Thick and messy on the outside, and narrowing to a fine point which finds it’s target at the center of her very soul. The brick wall she’d put up was plain to see in her eyes, but nothing could shelter those on the outside from the waves of despair emanating from her.

Fifteen isn’t easy to begin with, what with the churning hormones, the move to high school, learning about the joys and disappointments of first loves, and just how cruel some people can grow up to be. Now add the death of her first, true love - her father.

‘Mom - I’m losing anyone I care about! EVERYONE.’

I am at an unenviable place, for a person whose self-appointed purpose in life is to fix hurt, of having nothing to say although I tried. The results were abominable.

‘I will always be here, honey. I’m not going anywhere.’ Even as I said the words, and though I meant them, I knew they ran parallel to rather than addressing her true pain.

Retry! ‘Sweetheart - I understand.’ I groaned inwardly the second I uttered them. My mind screamed, ‘Just shut the fuck up, MJ!’

‘Don’t you dare say you understand, Mom - cause you don’t.’ No matter how much I can relate to the pain, if not the precise reason behind it, there is nothing in my life that could ever adequately compare to what she’s going through - or feeling. In that particular now, her pain was greater than any other ever experienced by anyone this side of death. Who am I to say, ‘I understand’.

She has been free with her anger, these days - especially where I am concerned. I know it isn’t personal. If anything, I understand that it speaks volumes about the health of our mother/daughter relationship. I am safe for her.....but I confess that I don’t always feel emotionally safe from her. I remain silent except to correct glaring misconceptions about her father’s death or my own grief.

We sn’uggled in my bed - both crying - silently, and then not so silently. Finally, with nothing left by sniffles, I automatically fell into the same meditative breathing I taught her in toddlerhood, my face close to her ear, and I smiled as I heard her follow my lead. We’d slogged through the mud, and finally made it to shore. Might not be the mainland, but I’ll take what we can get, for now.

Convinced she’d fallen asleep, I slipped my arm out from under her head, rolled over, and began to cry into my pillow. I was feeling sorry for myself - for having been left to carry this burden on my own, and afraid for us both.

‘God(dess) -who signs up to be a punching bag. Who survives this kind of thing intact? How am we going to survive this? This is JUST the beginning!!! My God(dess)! ‘

Movement - and a gentle pat on my shoulder before she let her arm fall about my waist…and a whispered, ‘I love you, Mom.’

Okay, God(dess) - I see what you did, there.

Last updated May 22, 2016