For Thor - 71 - The Line Between Bravery & Foolishness

I cried myself to sleep last night. And the night before that. I woke this morning to see the sunrise through teary eyes. Tears fell in the car, at the soccer field, in the shower and while cooking supper, yesterday.

Friday night was family night at the funeral home for Uncle Dick's mama. I wanted to go, for the family. This is the first time one of our generation (my sibs and spouses) has lost a parent, and it was important to me to be there; like they were there for me. It was the first time I'd been in that room since your service, Thor and I tell you what, it might have been brave to try, but there is a fine line between bravery and foolishness. I landed just a bit on the foolish side of that proposition, I'd say. As much as I love my sister and Dick, I think it would have been better if I hadn't tried quite so hard. But we never know our limits unless we test them, right? And now I know a little more about myself than I did on Friday morning. Even foolishness has its benefits, I suppose.

Would it be bad never to go to another funeral as long as I live? I don't know that this is the answer, but right now I'll do just about anything to avoid a full-sensory flashback like the one triggered on Friday. The whole experience was surreal, from walking up to the door of Dunkum Funeral Home and catching the first whiff of the smell in the room to the lighting and the energy vibration, I was transported in time, space and emotion to January 4th. I could not clearly see what was in front of me, the sweet family of a lovely woman who had left this earth too soon. Her photo and the flowers surrounding it floated like a ghostly image superimposed over other images; terrible images, seared forever in my mind. All I could see was you laying in that damned box with a gazillion flowers in a stunning array around you. All I could smell was the mums, roses, and sunflowers that draped the coffin and lent their natural beauty to make this worst moment just a little bit brighter. I shakily hugged a few people, the ones I had braved this environment to see, but the tears wouldn't stop. Hugging someone in that space, the space of grief, was like hugging people from that night in January when I embraced over 800 folks who came to say farewell to you.

It was clear I had to leave. The evening wasn’t about you and me, Thor. It was for someone else's pain and loss as we come together and take a moment to cherish a particular life. But for me, there was nothing else happening other than the vivid Technicolor replay of your funeral. It felt like I was going crazy with an alternate reality running alongside the one my body was currently occupying. All my senses turned traitor, adding to the full immersion experience. I could feel your cold hands, and I marveled at your beautiful hair as I caressed it one last time. I traced the funny little curve in your ear that I've loved since I first nuzzled it, you just a newborn babe. I stroked your cheek and tried to make believe it was not ice cold and hard…I tried to remember the last time you hugged me and how you smelled then, warm, clean sweat, laundry soap and you. I tried to block out the formaldehyde smell that clung to you as you lay lifeless in that damned box. Oh, yes. I had to get out of there.

My goodness. People are kind. Aunt La, Aunt Poorna and Aunt Radha along with your sweet dad and many friends, they helped me get done what I came to do; pay my respects and offer my love for the family. So many kind smiles and feelings of tenderness came our way, as everyone knew that it was hard for your brothers and dad to be there, too. So even though my mind was stuck in a dreadful place, there were lifelines of love that helped me get back to the current moment. We stepped outside into the twilit evening to head home. I breathed out forcefully, clenched and unclenched my fists, and shook my head. Dad offered to drive, but I welcomed the distraction of engaging my mind in an ordinary task. Riding as a passenger would allow me to linger with the pain.

I had escaped but not before uncorking a fresh bottle of memories and emotions. Holy shit! It hurts so badly, still. As we were driving home, Dad put his foot down and forbade me to attend the service the next day. He knows the signs of a crash coming. He's only ever firmly stopped me from doing anything two times in twenty-two years. This is one of them. I knew he was right, so I acquiesced without my usual defiance and let out another cleansing breath.

That night the moon rose fat and bright over the horizon. As I lay down, the silvery light drenched my bedroom. It looked like Angel Light to me, radiating with a soft glow that felt like angel wings wrapped around my heart. I sensed you right there, lending comfort as my tears slid silent and unending to soak my pillow.

I'll never stop missing you.

I love you,
Mom