Time Machine

You ever notice how a smell, or a song or a place can take you back in time? The smell of Fall takes me back to a 15 year old cheerleader, eager to impress her friends and desperate for things to be different at home. Any song by Def Leopard, transports me to my big brother's old 'yota, and how I felt so cool when he took me places in it. Walking in David's Grocery, (my favorite job of ALL time), reminds me of a 19 year old girl--madly in love with her first real boyfriend and oblivious to what she wants to do with her life. Yes it is true, we don't need some new invention....some actual vehicle to take us back. All we need is a trigger, and few minutes of reflection and there we are.....right back where we've already been.

I've been living inside my head the last few days, or perhaps longer, I am not sure. I always think of her....These thoughts are sometimes so vivid, it is like a movie playing in my head. I think of her healthy and when she was sick. But, for whatever reason, recently the memory of my mom in her last days has been plaguing me. I find myself unable to control these thoughts. See, these are not great memories. I wouldn't call them bad. I would just call them painful. No one can possibly understand what it is to hold your mom as she breathes her last breath, unless you've actually done it. I don't regret it. I don't necessarily want to forget it. But, I definitely don't like reliving it in my mind. And you know, I don't know if it is actually that moment that is so painful, or the ones leading up to it. The days leading up to her passing, were filled with slurs, confusion, and decline from a woman that was always in control and strong. Part of me thinks she didn't understand what was happening to her, and the other part thinks she knew. Part of me thinks she was fighting the inevitable, and the other part thinks she was ready. One thing is for sure, she wasn't scared. She told me this, time and time again when she was sick. She wasn't scared to die. She knew where she was going. But, she was scared of leaving us. We were her everything, and she was ours. I know, people read this blog and probably think that my brothers and I are grown.....not young children dependant on a parent to live....How can we be so affected by nature taking it's course? But, to that I say, I am a child...her child.....and I did depend on her every day. Several times a day actually. She was my best friend...She was part of me, and I part of her. I struggle every day to remember who I am, or was, or am supposed to be, without her here to help define me. I am no one. I am no one pretending to be someone.

Having said that, my life is very happy. I am growing stronger in my faith each day. As you know, I have the three most beautiful children in the world. I have a husband that loves me passionately, and I reciprocate that same love. I have a family that is strong and dependable, because that is how she taught us to be. I am blessed in so many ways and I am so aware of these blessings. But, often times, I feel as though I am leading a double life. One, a girl who has it all....The other, a girl that is lost and lonely. These conflicting "lives" make me unpredictable. One day, I am beaming and giggling with my girls. The next, I struggle to fake a smile for them. I suppose this is life now, I am not sure. What is life after such a significant loss? I mean, what is "normal" life, anyway? I cannot regain normalcy. I just cannot. I cannot fathom how it could actually exist anymore. I know with all my heart, that life exists after loss. I do believe that. But, I also know that life can never be the same. So, my mission now, is to find the new norm. That is what I am searching for everyday.

I miss my mom so much sometimes, I feel kind of claustrophobic. Like when my legs get tangled in the covers really tight, and I feel like if I don't get them free, I may literally scream or just go crazy. I feel that sometimes when I want to talk to her. I have yet to go crazy, although I admit, I have done my fair share of screaming. I have slapped the steering wheel. I have beat the bed. I have cursed and I have kicked the dirt. I have sat in the floor of my shower and cried so hard it literally hurt my face.  But, it didn't bring her back. I have to face the fact that she's never coming back, every day of my life. I write her letters, in an attempt to fill a void....It offers a little comfort, but without her wise, and sometimes wise-crack responses, it doesn't take away the pain. I fear nothing ever will.

and then I remember my little time machine....

and I think of the smell of baby oil....and I travel to a bright summer day. She's rubbing her legs down and smiling as we head to the patio to lay out and talk about everything and nothing, like best friends do.....

I think of the warmth of her house, when it was filled with the scent of stew and cornbread cooking on the stove. She's on the phone gossiping with her sisters. I'm close by, Josh is on the computer and Ronnie is in his room...there is an indescribable and irreplaceable "homey" feeling...

I think of anything by George Jones or Conway and suddenly I'm a little kid again, in the back seat, loving the sound of her voice, and oblivious to the realities of life.

I think of lady down on love, one of her favorite songs....and I transport to another time where I'm a teenager in the grand am with her. She's singing aloud while I'm studying her face. We're headed to get a burger and rent a movie.....

I walk in Neva's room and boom.....I've traveled to a more recent day. Mom's laying in the floor, reading a book while the girls hang off her very word...I smile as I walk away, because I know how lucky I am....

Or I walk in mom's bed room, and I transport back to a pregnant me, and a sick her....We are laying side by side crying, and she is wiping my tears. She rubs my stomach and holds my hand gently. When I ask how I am to go on without her, she points to my heart and reminds me where she will always be....


Then I step out of my time machine, and go play with my babies. The trip was good. But coming home is better.