Today on the walk home from school I passed a park with a small placard that said something about "the people we enjoy". I glanced at it casually as I walked by, but the depth of meaning struck me as somehow disproportionately profound for such words, and I went back to look again.
What a simple way to put it. I began to think about the people that I enjoy. Not surprisingly, the first person to come to mind was my mom. Susan Carol (House) Foster. Mom died two and a half years ago and at the time she was my closest friend. I know in my head that she wasn't perfect at all. But isn't it funny how death perfects people?
Anyway, imperfect as she was, I enjoyed my mom thoroughly. She called me Bunky, and I called her Shorty. Sometimes she would meet me at work for lunch, other days we would make trips to Meijer or Wal-Mart together. All my friends loved her, which is, I think, noteworthy. My mom was my hero, and my most important spiritual guide. She was forever supportive of me, even when I made various "I'm going to..." announcements that I know pierced her heart. She never made me feel guilty for going far away. But she was always so excited when I came home.
During my final homecoming before her Final Homecoming, Mom left a note on my table that said, "Leslie's Home! Whee!!" There was a little smiley face at the bottom. That was summer of 2005. That note got buried (quite predictably) in the pile of junk on the table, and I ran across it a few months later. By that time Mom had been diagnosed with a recurrence of cancer for the last time, and we knew her time with us was short. My whole world had changed. The note, which had made me so happy a few months back, made me equally sad the second time around.
There were days during Mom's last weeks that I was afraid I wouldn't be able to breathe without her. She had always been such a huge part of life. Always there. Always loving. The pain I felt as I looked ahead to life without my mom was physical. I hadn't known emotional pain could transcend its own realm and manifest itself that way. There are some lessons you'd rather never learn.
Anyway, it turns out that I am able to breathe without Mom. Some days it still hurts. Most days it's not a pain, but rather a sadness. She's still the person I want to talk things over with. I want to debrief with her about my day, every day. And how I would love to have her wisdom and advice about my life decisions.
After Mom died I wondered how long it would be before I stopped missing her so much. But after a couple years I've come to terms with the concept that I won't stop. I will always miss her, because I will always love her. She isn't here anymore, but she still is. I wonder if people in heaven watch us down here? I wonder if my mom sees me. I wonder if she's proud of who I'm becoming, of the choices I'm making. I wish I could ask her.
I can't imagine anything ever hurting more than losing my mom. But I wouldn't trade it; not even to take away the pain. Not even for that.
3 comments:
I don't have to know your mother to know that she is with a doubt absoultely proud of you. Proud of who you have become. Proud of your walk with the Lord. I like to think that they can see us and when people talk of guardian angels... that maybe our loved ones passed have something to do with that too. I know they no longer feel pain, but they can feel joy....so maybe they just get glimpses of the happy moments in our lives, of our moments where we please the Lord, of our milestones.
Thanks for reflecting for us! I appreciate your honesty and openness. Funny how small things can cause us to go to deeper places.
Leslie, after my grandpa died I felt the same way. I was so sure that there would be no way I could continue without him. Marriage, Graduation, Children, how was I going to do any of these things without him! But, like you've said, people go on; not necessarily move on, but keep living and growing while still loving that person. I say 'I love you' to my Peepaws everyday, and I believe, I feel I Have to believe, that he watches me everyday. I still cry every time I go to his grave, but I'm also finally able to smile and think of good times too.
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