As a kid, I wanted to bargain with God. Especially for more time with Mum. I always offered up years off my life to spend more time with her. And I was disappointed when God wasn't like Monty Hall, he wasn't willing to Let's Make A Deal. I wanted a sign. I wanted to know that Mum was with me.
Then I wondered if maybe the answer was coming to me but wasn't what I wanted to hear--you know how sometimes we get resistant to not hearing what we want to hear--and when I listened differently, the answer I wanted was actually all around. This took years and years to figure out and to accept. And I've never tried to articulate this--the words are not flowing smoothly from brain to fingertips. Gathering thoughts and stringing them together so they don't sound overly New Agey.
It might actually have been a memory trick: when the memory assimilates information and cooks it up. An e.e. cummings poem sticks with me--snippets of it float through my mind often and one day the words attached to my mum. And I realized that I do carry her in my heart. Not only in my heart, but when I hear the morning songbirds, when I see daisies waving from the side of the road, when I catch a whiff of peony on the summer breeze, gazing at the clear night sky, so many moments that I finally realized add up to the bargain I used to wish for as a child.
I've had some worries and concerns about a family member who's struggling. This weekend brought this realization--the dawning. The poem is written for romantic love but it applies to other kinds of love. So... I think maybe I'm getting rambly.
Maybe I'll come back to this... maybe this is as good as it gets.
2 comments:
Do come back to this - I think it's important.
My great grandmother comes back to me all the time - I'll just get impressions of her that are entirely undeniable. It's a little more than "carrying in the heart" - she'll pop into my consciousness completely unbidden, and I make a point of sitting with that and recognizing it for what it is.
It IS hard to talk about this sort of thing without sounding like a new-age flake, but I think it happens to a lot more people than are willing to admit it (and, I bet, it would happen to even MORE people if they were open to the idea and were mindful enough to recognize it when it happens). I bet your mom taps you on the shoulder all the time - and every time you think of her, you tap her on the shoulder, too. If you can get to the point where you're lining up your energies, you might even be able to see each other...
I am so sorry about your Mum. I wouldn't be able to function without mine. You were forced to grow up so early...
And I agree with your conclusion here. Though I've only lost distint relatives, I know my time is coming.
I will use the poem you did to help me through it.
God bless you, Allison. You're such an amazing lady!
((((hug))))
Post a Comment