Motherless

Mom & Me, Mothers Day, 2012

How could it be?

I woke up this morning and the world was still still here, popped into existence when I opened my eyes; the sun held high in the firmament, the bustling sounds of city life washing in through my air-cracked window.

How could it be?

The world in existence.

Yet diminished, greatly reduced, by one soul... gone.

Sylvia.

Mother.

How can the planet spin onward when she is no longer here?

And yet, it does.

Jake went to school. Ethan stayed home.

I am busy with a thousand phone calls I do not want to make, yet must.

Calls to tell people.

To make "arrangements."

Calls that involve the word "body."

(The husk that's all that's left.)

I shut down to do this. It's the only way.

***

I watched her go. I held her hand. I kissed her forehead, cooling.

***

I have mothered my mother for so long, it feels more like a child has died than a parent.

I keep thinking, routinely: "What do I have to do for her today, tomorrow, next week?"

And the blankness that comes back is cold and white with nothingness.

And the Kate Bush song echoes in my head: "All the things I should have done, that I never did."

Because even 52 years together are not enough when you want more.

And I am greedy.

I wanted more.

But there is no more.

She is done.

This last fight was beyond her.

The pain was too big.

Her heart valve too small.

She was tired, so very tired.

And now she is beyond the suffering.

(at peace.)

And I am motherless, forever more.