I am told that death and sickness often go hand in hand. I am not referring to sickness leading to death but to death leading to sickness. Apparently, this is a well-known fact in the medical world, but it came as a surprise to me.
Within two days of hearing about my mother’s death, I became sick. Come to find out, this is not uncommon. I believe that what happened is that the shock weakened my immune system. Although I am allergic to something in this locality, which leaves me feeling unwell part of the time, this is more than that. It felt kind of like a cold, with a runny nose, lots of sneezing and the overall weakness and shakiness and exhausted feeling that can come with a cold.
What I am discovering is that it is difficult to “properly” (whatever that is) grieve when feeling that sick enough to have to stay in bed. When my body is dragging, it is difficult to focus on anything. When I start to feel better, I start to focus more on grieving…and then I start not feeling well again. Like a Catch-22 cycle I am spending my days fighting feeling unwell and trying to grieve.
It does not help that what I am trying to grieve is a very bizarre situation that reaches far back into my infancy. Growing up in a generational abuse family results in lots of things…things I typically don’t write much about here. I leave that writing for other places. No, the things I want to write about in this blog are far different. However, it is a very real aspect of my life; so, to ignore it would mean not being real. And being real, for me, is very important.
My mother died at the end of 2010, yet I am only just now getting confirmation of that. I knew she had melanoma and did reach out to her, but it was foiled in ways that I won’t address here. Suffice it to say that I tried…and I hoped.
I did walk away from it with something, though. A glimmer of validation in something my mother said which leads to a glimmer of hope that she was realizing some things at the end of her life. My father, I have a LOT of reason to believe, put the kibosh on further communication. He will have to both live with that and someday answer to G-d for it. I did what I could and I stand in my own integrity. Not that I don’t wish I had been able to do some things differently, but I was unable. I did what I could…however imperfectly.
In order to process and grieve, I have had to pull away from some things, including this blog. There is so much I wanted to share on this blog, but life has kept me from keeping up. I have so many photos to share about Beit-Shalom and just things of life. Someday, L-rd willing, I will get to them. For now, it is time to grieve…and to finish getting well. I think I am, for the most part, over the physical sickness. But the heart sickness has a long way to go.
For that, I will continue to sit on my heavenly Abba’s lap and seek comfort from Him. I have reason to believe that my mother is with Him. That being the case, she now knows all the things I wanted to say to her and could not. She knows what my father did. She knows what she did. She knows all the truth surrounding our lives and is able to find healing from it in His arms. I also believe my sister is there with Abba. That means a reconciliation between them, too. G-d is the Healer of all things.
This is for you, Mom, since I know you loved gardening so much.