Sunday, April 5, 2015

I am in the Tomb.

3:30 am my eyes pop open. A heavy ache stirs deep within my bones that drives me from my temporal resting place beside my man, my rock, to sitting all alone in the Darkness. Something is churning deep within my belly that won't let go. An awareness of the fast approaching Light, but for now a long, black night presses down on all sides.

I am in the tomb.

Grave clothes wrapped tightly. I'm struggling to be freed. I twitch and turn desperate to be released from the clutches of the box.  I try to locate the exact source of this immediate, frantic panic.

 Of course this internal wrestling is primarily birthed from the horrendous tri-chord tragedy that holds me captive...

Easter 2014
No one. And I mean 
no one wanted to stop 
and take this pix. 
Thankful I insisted. 
I lost my Mother. Period. My Mother that was so much a part of my everything. My Mother that was so giving, leading a life of sacrifice and service. My Mother that I loved and adored. My Mother my children loved and were doted on by her like none other. My Mother that would do anything for me. I mean anything. My Mother that I spent so much time with, and yet, not even a fraction of enough time with. My Mother that was snatched from this life in a second with no warning.

My Mother took her own life. I don't feel as if I'm trespassing her by saying that, because sadly it has already been said... (See here: Hattiesburg Realtor Found Dead). Wrapping your brain around this bloody reality is an enigma shrouded in deep, dark, unknowable mystery.  It is a violent vortex of indescribable agony that will suck you down into the darkest, vilest pit of hell if you allow yourself too much time wrestling with the "Whys."

And, yet once again, I find myself thinking: "I wouldn't wish this pain on my worst enemy."

All these unanswered questions loom...Could we have done something? What signs did we miss? Racking your brain...Circling. Circling. Circling back to those final encounters. Final conversations. Closing texts. What did I miss? What if I would have picked up on something? ANYTHING?

Yes, we knew she was depressed (and suffered from depression & anxiety), but there was always a part of her that was not settled. Disappointed. Heavy laden by some self inflicted, but mainly circumstances beyond her control and selfish people appointed chains. And so like a relentless detective on the case every single person I come in contact with I ask...When did you last talk to Mom? How did she sound? Looking back what did you notice?

Thank you, Dora!
And "thanks" to all  for the
 strong hedge of love &
support enveloping our family. 
And then there is Breleigh.  This beautiful, innocent lamb of God my Mom poured into sacrificially. Breleigh's mother, my sister, through mainly self inflicted, turned inward choices coupled with addiction that she couldn't (or wouldn't) shake is literally in chains serving hard time. Her shell of a half-life (See here: Generation Beautiful. Dirty. Rich. Or hereSomeone was Going to Die And here: At the Crossroads ) leaves my sister a prisoner of the State of Mississippi. Once released, Rayanne faces years of probation where she will be on a long, treacherous path to recovery and redemption (If, and only if, she chooses the light over the dark which is yet to be revealed.)

But if being paraded down the center aisle of St. James Catholic Church in a yellow jumpsuit (Weird I expected orange) and bent over by the weight of literal, noisy chains to view your mother's dead body and pay your final respects to the one you took more and more and more from can't change a person...Seriously, I don't know what could? 

I'm praying for a miracle of fish and loaves proportion!

 But back to Breleigh... Mother would always say, "If anything was to ever happen to me...Y'all would take Bre?" Our response: "Stop that, Mom! But of course! We would take Bre."

Naively unaware this was our last
Easter together...
And that's what we did. Are doing. And will do...

To circle back that's the immediate source of this morning's pain.

In a few short hours light is coming. Marvelous light. Morning is here. And THIS Easter morning will be the first one I face without my Mother.

My Mother that would have been here.

  Smiling because of
 Mom's comments
about her flip flops in Easter pix. 
My mother that would have made her rabbit cake with crooked little rabbit ears because she really wasn't that artsy, but loved adding to the celebration non-the-less, and I would have loved those crooked lil ears. And there would be Jody's Bakery Easter cookies, because there never, ever was a holiday without something from Jody's. And dyed eggs with the lil ones. And demanding we hide eggs for the grandchildren again and again and again. My Mother that would have taken me on a shopping spree the day before to have me and the Kirby kids all dolled up in Easter Sunday Fabulous just like she did last year.  And our larger than life Italian family would gather around the table once more...With my Mother that would have made this day a special day like only she could...

Instead of the Easter light, if I'm brutally honest...I'm sitting alone in the blackest space somewhere in between Good Friday and the coming dawn. Dreading today and all it means...

 I now have a precious 5 year old under our roof that is waiting on the Bunny to arrive. I have Easter, the pinnacle of the Christian experience, the breaking of all chains. The bursting forth of the Marvelous Light. The eternal Hallelujah Chorus echoing from generation to generation telling the greatest story ever lived...how Jesus burst forth from death, Got up and Walked out of the Grave!

And, yet, I don't feel like I have the strength to even wiggle my way free from the death cocoon that is suffocating my life and seeking to grind me into an ashen paste...

AND, YET, SOMEHOW...

Deep breath, here comes my guttural heart's cry...

WITH THE STRENGTH OF THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY WHO HAS CONQUERED DEATH AND DYING AND HELL AND EVERY DEMONIC STRONG HOLD EVER KNOWN TO HUMANKIND I WILL GET UP THIS DAY AND SEEK TO RISE UP AND CELEBRATE THE RESURRECTED LIFE I HAVE BEEN GIFTED WITH WHILE I STILL HAVE THE BREATH IN MY FEEBLE LUNGS TO CELEBRATE! LORD! BY YOUR RESURRECTION POWER MAKE IT BE SO!

But first, I  better pour myself a cup of coffee and wake up Cherry...

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