Out of orbit

Yesterday marked 12 years of life without mom. There were e-mails, phone calls, and texts yesterday, among our family members touching base with each other, making sure everyone was having an OK day. "I love you's" were spoken, texted, or communicated in our own, "non-sappy" German-heritage way. I began to reflect upon how deep the loss of someone who was so central was, and continues to be, on so many people. I think of each of us as separate planets, and my mom was the sun. She was the force around which we rotated, she was the force that held our universe together. If you take the sun away, the planets have nothing to orient to, no central force to keep them organized and together. Each planet does what they must to survive, initially, but as time goes on, each planet does what they must to thrive again, even in the absence of their sun. But that takes time. It takes time to learn how to flourish again, how to truly live without your sun. But each year, on that one day, the planets reach toward the center, their hands brush against one another, and they remember. They remember life when their sun was there. They remember that each planet misses the sun for their own reasons, and they remember to reach out and care for one another, in the same way they did at the beginning. And that reaching toward the center makes the sun feel real again.


That is what yesterday did for me. There is something so incredibly bittersweet about February 8. Yes, it was absolutely the worst day of my life. I have never, ever (and God willing, will never again) experienced grief so raw, so deep, it was to. the. core. But February 8 is also a celebration. It is a day when she is at the front of my mind. It is a day to remember her, to honor her, and to reflect on the deep impact she had on my own life. It is a day to reach out and comfort the others who are missing her just as much as I am. It is a day to laugh, a day to feel joy, and it really is a day to celebrate. To celebrate her. To celebrate her life. To celebrate that I made it a whole 'nother year without her, and I did OK. To celebrate that I am one year closer to seeing her again (God willing, there, too :).

Disclaimer: the whole planet thing is a little hippy-dippy, but I just couldn't get that out of my mind. And it really does fit. She was the center of our lives. And we (immediate and extended family) have spent the past 12 years trying to figure out how to not just function, but flourish, without her.

Every year, as the 8th approaches, I feel a strange mix of dread and anticipation. Some years, I treat it almost as a birthday...if you know me, you know how much I love birthdays. I figure, the worst thing that has ever happened to me (God willing, it stays that way) happened to me on this date, I deserve a free pass every February 8 from here until I am gone. So, I pamper myself, treat myself.

This year, I did no such thing...

I woke up feeling more dread than anticipation, and the whole day was full of Murphy's Law-type experiences. At 8:00 am, as I am just arriving to work, the state department shows up for a routine survey of our home care business. Not a big deal, we are in compliance, but it is always one of those *Holy crap!* events. At 8:15, as I am bending down to retrieve some items out of my work bag, the underwire of my bra snaps. Grrreeeaaat. My favorite bra...At 9:00 am, I look at my schedule and realize that I will most likely have two patients at the same time come at 11, so I work with our (fantastic) administrative assistant, and she helps me get it squared away. However, one of the patients is IRATE! Oh, gee, super! I am giving up my lunch hour (when I was going to buy a new bra) to an irate patient...Can't wait! I then decide to log into my bank account to make sure all of the bills I set up on bill pay have gone through. Oh, they did, and the flex deposit I thought would go in on Tuesday wasn't there...so I had $.18 in my checking account. Great! Run to the bank (no new bra for me today) and throw some money in. I had a very busy, booked solid day at work, and at 3:00 pm, between patients, I use the restroom. As I am washing my hands, something catches my eye. Something gross, you know what I mean right?, is stuck inside my nostril. Oh, gee I wonder how long THAT has been there?!!!? How many patients and parents have seen me walkin' around today with a giant booger hanging out of my nose? I deal with one more somewhat angry parent, and the day is finally done.

I might stay in bed next year.

It wasn't a great day yesterday, but it did get to be kind of funny, and I imagined that my mom may have had a hand in it all. If she didn't orchestrate it, she sure would have been laughing her ass off at my expense!

In reflecting upon 12 years without her, I have come to a greater understanding of how her loss has impacted me, and I have also come to realize that there will forever be a part of me that lies empty. I used to compare her loss to a gaping wound. That wound will eventually form a scab. The scab will crack occasionally and bleed, but will finally heal. That wound will be pink, and it won't take much to make it bleed, but eventually, the tough skin will grow over it. The scar will always be there, but underneath, everything will be as it was.

I am finding that analogy to be false, at least for me. Instead, I feel that there is a big, empty hole in my heart. I have been waiting and waiting for it to be filled, and I try to fill it. I try to fill it with kids, work, you know, the busy-ness of daily life. But it is never filled. I think this year, I have come to terms with that notion, and I am pretty close to simply accepting that.

If you talk to people who have lost their mothers at a young age, it is a common thread. The sense of emptiness, the missing link in the chain. When you lose your mother when you are old, does it feel the same? Or is it somehow easier to accept because it is part of the natural cycle of life? Questions, questions, that I will never have the answers to.

Instead, I will choose to celebrate her.

AND wear a new bra, make sure I have money in the checkbook, and keep my nose clean :)