Recently I saw this bouquet on a friend's coffee table. Initially, the bright colors drew me in. On close inspection, as you can see, it is made of something like legos. It's not real. From a distance, it looks as if it might genuinely be a freshly cut bouquet. The closer you get, the more clear it is that its flowers are artificial.
That is what my world feels like since mom left this earth. I have been desperately seeking something real. Something solid I can hold onto. Yes, my faith is strong. Yes, I KNOW the Lord God is my Anchor and I am tethered to Him. That does not change the fact that I long for something.
Of course, it makes sense that I just want my mom back. She was the one person who could listen to me think out loud, vent, verbally process my feelings--logic displaced or even absent--she could not have cared less. She was just there with open arms to listen. She patiently accepted me with all my flaws. She loved me agape-style. She told me every time we talked that she loved me and was proud of me. That I was "her person."
And she was mine.
"You don't know what you've got until it's gone" right? I did know though. I knew to my core what I had and I cherished it. I deeply cherished her while she was here.
My encounters with people are...interesting. There is a clear expectation for me to function with the same level of logic, tolerance, and clear mindedness (None of which were top notch pre-loss, mind you). I should not, but I do attempt to communicate and function "normally" anyway. I fail. Essentially every time.
I set boundaries, mainly to keep from subjecting others to my persistent grief state; my jumbled thoughts, emotions and M.I.A. ability to process. Then I fail to honor my own boundaries. Guess who would have just rolled with it? Who would never expect me to have a clear mind right now? Who would not tell me I have changed, I don't make any sense at all, I'm not joyful enough, I seem "down," I am illogical, I am ________________, or I am not____________?
❤ MOM ❤
Do I expect special treatment? No. I suppose I am just desperately seeking a safe place...or person. Thus far, the nearest I've found is a Facebook group with hundreds of women who have lost their moms. I particularly recognize the ones whose relationships with their mom was as close as mine. They "get me." I could have written any of their thousands of posts. I could pour my heart out there, as many of those women do. They are real people, but I don't personally know them. I have yet to meet a "safe" person who understands.
I will not downplay anyone's grief. Loss is brutal. I have experienced several profound losses (deaths) in my life-grandparents, relatives, dear friends....even my dad. I know grief is personal and excruciating in any case. However, nothing compares to this. Nothing. My grief counselor confirmed that people describe losing a same-sex parent as the deepest loss they've experienced. I was broken when I lost dad, but this has shattered me.
It almost irritates me when people (especially women) who still have their moms expect me to be rationally processing life events. When people tell me I'm not making sense. Well guess what? Nothing makes sense right now! It has been 3 1/2 months since I lost my mother. My "Ride or Die." My best travel buddy. My first and best friend.
My person.
Remember that artificial bouquet? That is what my world looks like right now. A whole lot of words, packaged to (look) sound genuine, but if I drill down a bit--they are not. How can they be? People say they understand--and they may even believe it--but until they're in my shoes, they can not. It's simply impossible.
One tidbit of advice from me after being just 3 1/2 months into the grief process:
If you know someone who's lost their same sex parent, please do not expect them to be rational in their thoughts, speech, problem-solving ability, or anything else that requires a clear head. If you still have your parents, don't tell them you understand them. You do not. You can not. Regardless of how desperately you or they wish you could.
It is lonely in this place. The only thing that holds me together is my relationship with Jesus. My Anchor...my Rock...my salvation...my hope.
Lord Jesus, Bread of Life, I praise You with all that I am. Living Water, I feel parched. I need You to fill me. Pour Your Spirit into me until I am overflowing, Lord. Let my overflow bring Your name glory. I am nothing without You Lord. An empty shell, fragile and cracked. Fortify me with Your Sprit Lord. Make me like You. Precious Jesus, I surrender all to You. I am desperately seeking Your face.
