And then she was gone…..
My Mama died on Labor Day evening at 9:05pm.
There is no easy, gentle way to put it. I guess I could have tried to be more eloquent with my words. But everything, including words, feel pretty raw at the moment. I feel weird telling people this news. But I feel as if they should know. Why do I feel that way? I have no idea. Maybe it’s because I want them to know me, all of me. Even if they are fairly mild acquaintances. I don’t really want them to feel sorry for me. And I know that some people feel uncomfortable and don’t know what to say. Because even those of us who believe we have a small glimpse of what happens to our essence (or soul) when our earthly shell is done using it, there isn’t a lot of documented hard evidence of what really happens, or how. So that makes some of us more anxious and afraid of death than others. And some people just don’t want to hear what they perceive as bad news.
Dying and mourning seem to be the biggest test of Faith that I have yet encountered. I don’t have all the answers. I am not sure that I have any of the answers. I do know that it hurts. Even if I don’t show it on the outside. The pain is searing.
I have dealt with death before. Eighteen years ago, my brother killed himself. That hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. Somehow this hurts deeper. Quieter. Is it because it is my mother? She has been the only human to know me before I was born. The Scriptures say that God knit me together in her womb; where I was “fearfully and wonderfully made”. I am not sure that I have always been cognitive of that special closeness. I think it might be a particular closeness since I was first born. It was a first for both of us. Does that make it special? I am not sure about that, but I think it makes it a unique relationship.
And now that relationship is done. At least on a physical level. A lot of people say that they can feel their departed loved ones. I am not so sure about that. But I have been noticing a difference this week about silence. I have been reveling in silence. I have been loathing it. I have been sobbing in it. It is different, frightening, and incredible all at the same time. I don’t think it is necessarily sensing my mother’s presence. But it could be sensing God’s presence more. And that feels like a wonderfully comforting thing to sense.
I will probably write about my mom more here in the coming months. Maybe more eloquently, maybe not. For those of you who just want quilting news, feel free to pass over these kind of posts. I will probably be adding some more “real life” posts, just like I used to when I first started blogging. It is MORE of who I am. And I think that is part of why I blog. To share my thoughts on all things, not just the world of needle, fabric, and thread.
And if you want a reason for stories about my mom being here, she did teach me how to sew. As for the other “non-quilting” posts to come, I have no idea how they will relate, if at all.
But they will be a part of me. And part of the Blue Nickel.
Talking and Walking in the Silence,