Faithfully Frazzled

I really enjoyed watching the game last night. Actually enjoyed it! The Eagles’ win made me happy for no other reason than I enjoyed my years on the East Coast and Philadelphia was my favorite nearby big city. Mom would have remarked, ‘Oh, my land’, with regards to the halftime show. 😂 I’d have had to explain the subversive message Samuel L. Jackson as Uncle Sam was sending. She had no patience for rap but would’ve watched the show regardless. This was the first Super Bowl I’ve watched in about twenty years without mom. Did I care much about sportsball? Meh. Did mom? I mean….no.😝 It was really just an excuse to eat yummy food, be together, and, as the kids say, vibe. We knew what we were. Total posers! 😅 We did not care one iota! I’m just glad there was no pretense. Just love and togetherness.

And I’ve been pondering, why did she love me so much? Like, soooo much. 😳 I never realized just how much until she thought she was losing me. In her last stint in the hospital she began berating me for abandoning her in her time of need. I know full-well it was the dementia telling her this but she felt it in her bones. I’ll never forgive myself for taking that long to fully grasp the depths of her love. It just boggles my mind. (Oh man, we used to play so much Boggle, incidentally.😅 I miss that.) I just miss her warm presence. Her familiar smell. Her humor. Knowing she knew everything about me and still loved me. 😳🫣 It was miraculous, really. I want to tell her so many things. I want to feel the empathy she inevitably gifted to me when something crappy was happening in my life. Selfish. I just feel so selfish and not nearly appreciative enough. She gave and gave and gave and I happily took. Forgive me, mom! Forgive me for ever taking your love for granted. Now, the universe has taken an industrial sized melon-baller and carved a gaping hole in my heart. Intellectually I know that she is mystically still floating around me; my life so imbued with her goodness I cannot escape her memory. Nor would I ever want to. But I go on existing, bobbing around this sea of life with my rope of faith mooring me to the dock. Today I recklessly drove my children home just as my nervous system began destabilizing. Thankfully, the familiar wooziness hit with just enough time to pull over out of danger’s way. Suffering with POTS without my greatest worldly comforter feels like a cruel joke but I tell myself, Self!!! You were lucky to have her as long as you did! (Oh, shut up, goody two-shoes. 😑 I’m wallowing here.) Yes, yes. Very lucky. Now, can I have her back? Not in some woo-woo spiritual way. Like a flesh and blood, huggable way?

– Deep, sad, existential sighs…. –

No. I know I can’t. Not without Christ coming back. So, I do what I know I should. I focus on the good because that’s how she lived. That’s how she raised me. Nothing about this feels right. Being a twice-blessed motherless child (birth mother and actual mother) is my lot in life. I know I will continue to walk in gratefulness, but, dammit….I’m big sad. 😔