"It's not the load that breaks you down, it's the way you carry it." - Lena Horne
I am home now, back in St. Albert, back in the snow. Sunday was the first day of spring supposedly, I think we didn't get the message up North. When I left Portland the grass was green, there were daffodils blooming and I saw the first buds of leaves on the trees. It's tough to see Mom wearing down as Spring is gearing up. But life goes on, it doesn't revolve around us and it doesn't cease moving forward. No matter how we may want it to slow down just a little bit and let us handle things. And because life goes on, I am back home.
Because I am home, I had to say goodbye. It was unbearably hard and to be honest I coped the best way I know how. Distraction. I feel a little bit like Scarlet O'Hara "I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow." I almost missed my flight, it was an odd blessing, racing for the flight didn't leave me time to sit and think, and cry at the airport.
Momma and I reminisced the morning I left. Mom always told me that when she was pregnant she prayed for a dark haired, blue eyed little girl. I'm glad she got me, and I'm so glad I got her. She has been a wonderful Mother. Knowing us both you would know we are different from each other. Momma is meek, the dictionary defines Meek as showing patience and humility; gentle, and when I was younger I think meek would be one of the last words used to describe me. Mom was always trying to get me to be more like her. An uphill battle I would say, I believed that meek really meant weak. Isn't that the arrogance of youth? I am younger, yet not old. At thirty seven I would consider myself heading toward the middle. I have often heard that as you get older the more you realize how much you don't know. Everything is perspective, and for those older (and much wiser) than I please forgive the arrogance of my limited life experience. Yet there is something I have in common with a few of my elders. I am losing my Mother. I am experiencing the same thing that a few of Mother's friends are dealing with these days. These are women that have thirty or more years on me. These women have been blessed to have parents with long lives. I am not bitter, bitter is not the right word. Bitterness has no place here. Yet I mourn the years ahead that I must face without my Mother. As I have gotten older I have mellowed and I know as I am being broken down by Mother's death perhaps I am being made stronger, and more meek which really isn't a contradiction in terms to me anymore.
"You're blessed when you're content with just who you are—no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought."
Matthew 5:5 (The Message)
