Stay...

In less than two weeks the calendar will cruelly shout, "It's the fifth of March." Just like any ordinary day, I suppose, but I suddenly find myself hurdling headlong into the abyss of overwhelming sadness. Melancholy has taken root and flourishes wildly, out of control. Why? Because eleven years ago, on March the fifth, my world changed forever. My mama died, she just suddenly died. And where was I? Two states and eight hours away, that's where. There was no warning...no goodbyes. Perhaps that is the very reason it's so hard. There's an intangible something..."Stay, just a little bit longer, please, please, please..."

But, I have learned so much since then. I have learned that there are no guarantees, and death is an expected part of life, even when it comes unexpectedly. I have learned that there is an ache so vast and deep that, nothing---nothing, can ever fix it. The well-meaning folks who try to console me by saying things like this, "it gets better with time," don't really understand at all, because if they believe that...they still have their loved one, here with them. They have not experienced the depth of sadness that I have.

Other people say, "You have to let her go." I say, "No...'Stay, just a little bit longer, please, please, please.'"

Yes, of course, I know the 'stages' of grief. But, I also know that not a single day goes by that I don't miss my mama so very much. She was my very best friend. "Stay, just a little bit longer, please."

Recently, I had a dream. I believe that the Lord sent it to me. In my dream, Mama was older. (she was only 67 when she passed away---that's only eight years older than I am right now!) Yes, she was definitely older, but she was in the last stages of Alzheimer's and she did not know me at all. In fact, she was agitated all the time, because everyone was a stranger to her. She was alone and afraid, all the time.  I knew what the Lord was doing. He was showing me what might have been. I appreciate that. I do realize that there are worse things that could happen, there always are.

Let me be quick to add: this is not a morbid grief. I have lost many people I loved and cared about. This is more of a Regret-Grief. I just feel like she has missed so much in my life that I wanted her to share with me.
And I realize, now, that I always believed that there would be plenty of time to visit, eventually. "Stay...just a little bit longer, please," she would say. My response was usually, "I would, but I just have so many things to do." Now, I wonder: why is it that I can't name one single one of those 'important' things?! Yes, I should have stayed, just a little bit longer.

Life is unbelievably short. It always has been. Every opportunity must be seized. Oh, there will still be regrets, but there will be oceans of fond memories, as well. Always choose wisely and, "stay...just a little bit longer, please, please, please...let me hear you say that you will."


Life's better on the porch, come and sit, stay awhile...and..."Spend the afternoon. You can't take it with you." ~Annie Dillard