May 23, 2017 ... At Seven Months

Today - May 23, 2017 - is the seven-month mark since MoMo left on her journey.  Ironically, I had therapy too.  I looked up the phases of grief (denial/isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance), I was not surprised that jealousy was not one of them.  What I can tell you that I know at this stage of my journey is that I am angry that I did not get to say good-bye to MoMo.  I know she got to say good-bye because of the little yellow butterfly...that was her way of saying good-bye.

At Seven Months
The shock is gone
Denial is completely in the past
It is very real that they are not here 
They will not and cannot return 
No matter how many times you beg God to wake you from this nightmare
No matter how hard you cry
The anger and the depression battle for control
You have accepted that they are gone
It is something that is very, very real
You talk to the sky, the air, hoping that they are listening
Listening just like they did when you were a kid and telling them about something that they completely didn't understand
Or listening like they did when you were an adult sitting across the table from them asking for their advice on one of the most important decisions of your life
Only, you will not hear their voice
You realize that you aren't too sure you remember what their voice sounds like and you feel guilt
Not the kind of guilt that Rex, the T-Rex in Toy Story, feel when he throws up
It is the kind of guilt that makes you cry or scold yourself as to how could you even manage to forget what their voice sounds like
You can look at their picture and smile and not always cry
Your heart, despite being broken is beating and with each sunrise and sunset, it beats just a little bit stronger
The numbness is mixed with the feeling of being lost
You are realizing that this is new normal
Here you are at seven months.

At Two Months ... in reflection

You do something ... anything
It could be something as simple as laugh at a small child dancing to a live musician
It could be something as complex or intimate as make love
When whatever it is you were doing is done, you realize that for a Who-size moment in time... you did not think about them
About them not being here
You still see them and what they looked like the last time they were alive - breathing
Then that image is broken because you see them not breathing
The body
You know that it is the shell of the person who used to be there
You panic that you have dishonored them in some way
You are still in the all-engulfing darkness but it isn't as heavy or suppressing
To someone not in that same moment, situation, they have no clue how dark it still really is
You realize that the joy or pleasure could be felt along with all the pain
Your heart is still beating despite the pain of the knife that is still stuck there
There are a lot of moments when you don't want to be here anymore
You want to be with them
You question why you can't go with them
Why did God leave you alone
You remember there were all these faces and voices not so long ago saying words that you really didn't hear then and now have no clue as to what they could have even said
At this moment, you are the only one that has been here
No one has been here before
No one understands how you feel because they have not felt this way
You are trying so hard to be the kind of numb that feels nothing
You are short with people
The person closest to you that loves you to the moon and back because they can
Not because of blood
You take all your anger and frustration out on them
You aren't nice to them but you don't know it
You push them the furthest you can away from you
You inflict pain on them because you want them to know how raw you still are
Because you want them to feel the same pain
Your pain becomes anger
An anger that you didn't know you were capable of
The darkness is different
It is different because it is now being fueled by anger
Here you are at two months.

At One Month ... In Reflection

At One Month

Note: May 20, 2017

It is important to note that this chapter is being written on the one month mark of the death of the father and best friend of Thomas.  For me, it is a reflection of the one month mark after Momo left.

At one month, you are still moving in slow motion - if at all.  The World, everybody else, moving at the speed of light. You are standing completely surrounded by darkness, alone.  Everybody else is just streaks of bright light like the ones you see in the movie Tron. You look down and are standing in a puddle of your own tears.  The puddle is growing to be more like a lake that you are in the middle of that you will eventually have to start treading water in order to keep your head above.  Everyone else is completely dry. You only realize it is one month because you realize the date you are writing down is exactly one month after.  For everyone else, it is simply just another day, another month has passed in the huge chasm that time can be.

You feel like it is was, yes cliche, just yesterday that your entire world as you know it completely imploded and exploded at the same time even though it is against the law of physics that it can even happen.  Everyone else is completely ordered and collected. You wait for the door to open and that person to walk through.  You look at the phone and wait to see their name when it rings.  You think you hear their voice call your name but they are not there. You go about your day.  You try to function. You don’t make sense but no one tells you that you don’t make sense.  You see others whisper.  You don’t know what they are talking about and just hope that it is not about you but most likely it is.  Your mailbox still fills with cards and notes.  People still call and check on you.  They can’t possibly know how you feel.  There is no one else that has lived the exact same story that you are living.

The numbness, the shock is starting to become more of a sting.  The sting is becoming more of a knife positioned perfectly in the center of your chest … positioned perfectly in the center of what is space where your heart used to be.  

There you are at one month.

On This First Mother's Day Without MoMo

Below are the passages that I sent to women in my life that I feel my MoMo knew would take care of me in her absence.  This is one of the hardest days of my life.  In "The Story of the Yellow Butterfly" I speak of the man that holds my heart.  While he does still hold and have my heart, three weeks ago his father and best friend took the same journey that MoMo took almost seven months ago.  He has chosen to walk his path without me.  Today, I am so lost. The home I shared with MoMo and the home he and I had talked about being one in, does not bring me comfort today as it has in the past because both are everywhere I turn.  Heart-broken and broken in so many ways, I share this today.

On This First Mother’s Day

As of this first Mother’s Day,

My mother and best friend left

203 days

4,872 hours

292,320 minutes

ago.

In these days, hours, minutes

There has not been a time when I have not missed her

The pain still stings, my heart is still broken

I know that I am not the first on this journey

I know that I will not be the last on this journey

What makes this journey different is you

Because of you, my journey is blessed

I believe that one of the reasons that my mother’s journey started so peacefully, is because she left me in your capable hands and heart

Your loving, blessed hands and heart

For that on my first Mother’s Day,

I celebrate my mother’s love

I celebrate you.

The Story of the Yellow Butterfly

October 23, 2016

I was working around the backyard of my childhood home and the home, 

that at that time, I shared with my beloved Momo and youngest son.  This always has and will be a labor of love.

That day, a pale yellow butterfly fluttered around the backyard not coming close to me.  Watching me and I was watching it.

At about six that evening, while Momo slept in her chair, that pale yellow butterfly came close to me and the one that holds my heart,

enveloping us in a complete circle.

A circle that completely connected and flew away.

A little later, I discovered that Momo was not sleeping.  Momo had peacefully slipped away from this earth and left on her journey to our Father God.  A journey away from me.

In reflection, I firmly believe that God had sent the pale yellow butterfly to us.  When the pale yellow butterfly completed the circle and flew away, on its wings were my beloved Momo and best friend.

That circle was her last hug to me.