A veil of melancholy is covering me today. I miss my mom. As it so often happens when “celebrating” the anniversary of a significant event, my thoughts have taken me to the dangerous neighborhood of sorrow and regret.I cancelled an evening meeting tonight with my “date” from the fundraiser of last week. We were to go to a new meeting he wanted to try in Long Beach. I’m just not feeling social. I had read his FB post about visiting his mother in the hospital earlier in the day; first there was envy, then floods of memories of visiting my own mother in the hospital 7 years ago came rushing back. Instead of making excuses when I phoned, I was honest about my need to just "be" tonight. Sometimes I feel the need to sit with the feelings I was so accustomed to erasing with alcohol. It's a miracle to be able to acknowledge and survive their existence now. He was loving and supportive and truly a blessing in my life.
Before I left Mom's hospital room the evening of the 20th, she tried to tell me not to “bother” coming to visit the next day. She didn’t want to be a burden. She wanted me to go to work and not let her illness worry me or alter my plans. (She was always saying things like that which leads me to believe she was unaware of her profound importance in the lives of those who loved her.) My baby brother was there with me and we sat with her for a while as she faded in and out of sleep. We were both there when the priest came to perform The Anointing Of The Sick. I remember feeling alone in the moments immediately following the prayer. Incredibly alone. There was a dread that settled in my heart as we left her. That dread has resurfaced today. And the pain is as crippling now as it was then.
Thankfully, I was blessed to be with her as she passed from her earthly life to her eternal life the following afternoon. Those memories I will put away until tomorrow.
I am starting my day tomorrow at one of my favorite meetings on the beach. The tumultuous crashing of the surf somehow brings me peace and that is where I feel most connected to my Higher Power. I didn’t used to seek God in times of emotional distress. I used to escape into the alcoholic abyss. Today, prayer is my first thought; my first action.
And that is how I choose to honor my mother.
Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.
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I am sorry for the loss of your mother. Feelings can seem like odd fellows to us in recovery. Good for you for having the courage to feel and acknowledge them. A meeting on the beach sounds wonderful!
ReplyDeleteI understand how it feels to drown yourself in alcohol after losing someone you love. In 2006 I lost my son's father, my cousin and my youngest son. All unrelated deaths within 5 months of each other. If ever there was an excuse to drink, and oh how I used that excuse and felt totally justified. Now that I'm sober I see I perpetuated the pain instead of dealing with it. The pain and loss hasn't gone away of course but I have gained a little peace that I never had while drinking. And those anniversaries, mile markers are always difficult. I am thinking of you Julianne!
ReplyDeleteThank you all so much for your kindness. I'm learning, sometimes the hard way, that we don't have to do this alone. I'm grateful to be trudging this road with you.
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