Y'all know I'm not a secrets kind of guy. I'm not looking for sympathy either. I'm writing this more for me than anything else. I'm hoping by saying some things out loud it will help me to get past some things and accept others. So here goes.
I've sat down several times to write this post but I've never been able to finish it. I'm not sure you'll even read this. I'm really surprised at how hard I've taken this whole thing. My mother and I have always had a different outlook on death. We both always considered it as a part of live. There's no used in getting upset, life goes on, blah, blah, blah. Yet here I sit, torn up beyond belief.
Right now she's in the top of my closet. The plan is to spread her over a blue bonnet field next spring. She loved blue bonnets. She loved gardening, bird watching, reading, and eating. She gave up each one of these things one by one. We should have seen it coming, but nobody noticed. That's part of my guilt. I didn't notice. That, and I didn't visit as often as I could and should have.
I find it hard to leave the house. I have panic attacks when I do. I want to be alone but when Jen and the boys are gone the panic sets in. I've been having weird chest pains, not the heart attack kind, just a strange kind of I'm gonna start crying kind of thing. Don't worry I'm not gonna cry. It just feels like I am. I have had some moisture in my eyes, but I think it's from the cigarettes.
Right now I have a garage full of memories. I sold some of them this weekend, I need to get them out of here. It's funny what reminds me of her. Water for instance. She always had a bottle of water with her every where she went, Now when I see one, I think of her. I'm not trying to forget her. I just don't want to be bombarded with memories. It's already hard enough.
I thought she lived life to the fullest. She was never afraid to try anything. She did it all when I was a kid. We spent a lot of time on the river. She went tubing, canoeing, dam sliding and even swung on a rope into the water, all after the age of 50. She continued to enjoy these activities with her grand children when she was in her 60's. I always thought she should wear a giant "S" on her chest. She was super in my eyes.
I just found out this last week that she had a weakness. It seems that when she was a small child a Southern Baptist preacher got into her head and filled it with hell fire and brimstone. According to a reliable source she thought her life was one big sin and the older she got the more she worried about it. She was afraid of going to hell. The reliable source also disclosed the fact that her arthritis was far worse than anyone knew. She said that the pain in her neck was so bad that if it wasn't for the fact that she would go to hell, she would take a handful of pills and end it all. This coming from the most anti-drug individual on the planet. She suffered severely for the last three years. She suffered so bad she wanted to die. She wanted to die but she couldn't end the pain because she didn't want to go to hell (I guess she didn't want to see my dad again).
I guess when food got boring, a deeply buried part of her brain saw a way out. She slowly starved her self to death. She went out one of the most painful ways possible. Even at the end when the nurses tried to feed her she would grit her teeth. My last phone call to her, the nurse told me she was calling my name and when she wasn't doing that she was crying. I didn't want to talk to her but the nurse poured on the guilt so I did. She begged me to come get her, but for once in my life I was helpless to do what she asked. Sooner or later I'll pay for that, she'll see to it. At the very end she was calling for her sister and her mother and father to come take her home. I'm glad I wasn't there.
The part that confuse me is that all my life she told me she wasn't to sure there was a God, because if there was and He was the loving God that He claims to be then He wouldn't let the bad things that happen, happen. So I wonder since she questioned the existence of God is that why she suffered so bad, or does shit just happen, or is she right about God not existing. Where is she now? Or is she? I believe in God, after all I have seen the devil. If there is a devil then there is a God. I just wonder why she had to suffer to the point that she wanted to take her own life.
I've heard it all. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes when God answers your prayers, the answer is no. God has a plan for us. Well I don't buy any of it. I think God stuck us on this rock floating in space and He spends His spare time laughing at us. That's if He even remembers that we're here. If God were the loving God that the bible speaks of then she wouldn't have suffered. She wouldn't have had to starve herself to death. It makes me question His existence.
The really wild thing is that my older brothers checked their dad and our mom into the same nursing home on the same day. Their dad died at 5:30 am and our mom died at 6:44 pm on the same day. Checked in on the same day and checked out on the same day. Now as bad as I feel I have to wonder how bad they feel. Both parents on the same day. They have been divorced for 38 years. They haven't seen each other in at least 22 years. Now they get put into the same old people storage facility on the same day (they didn't know about each other being there). Then they die on the same day. What are the fucking odds? You got a better chance of winning the lottery.
I been writing this post for about four hours and it's beginning to look like y'all may actually get to read it. I had to stop a few times and go smoke a cigarette, funny how smoke gets in your eyes. Doesn't really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Jen's been wanting me to talk to someone about my feelings. Problem is I only have one feeling and I just talked about with y'all. Plus it didn't cost $75.00 an hour.