What is a second?
What is a minute?
What is a day?
What are 1,827 days?
That’s the time that’s passed
since we last had Mom in this plane of existence, give or take a minute or a
lifetime. I think of her and the pain is not any lesser or farther. Although I
may be more comfortable with it because I keep Her so present, I can’t say it’s
easier. That’s the wrong word for what I feel. Instead, I lean into the feeling
to better understand it.
It’s not a void or an emptiness
because her love is incapable of leaving a void. And there’s pain with that
love, of course. How could there not be? But I speak to Her every single day. I
go on walks and find a moment to catch Her up on things. I journal every night
and I write to my personal trinity: God, then Mom, then myself. It’s a practice
that has helped me more than I can describe.
There’s a common quote that says
something along the lines of, “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.” I believe
in this quote because I think there is something out there after we pass on.
Although it’s possible that there’s nothing, it’s just as possible that there
is something. What’s true is that 5 years after She’s passed, I still feel Her.
People write me from all over my life and all over the world to tell me they
were thinking about Mom or they dreamt about Her. People normally preface this
by saying, I don’t mean to bring this up but I thought/dreamt/talked to your
Mom.
There is nothing to apologize and
I’m thankful for anyone kind enough to reach out to say something like this. I
appreciate people sharing memories and stories I didn’t know about. I treasure
every new picture someone finds and sends along. I am treasure every time
someone reads anything I wrote and tell me they love Mrs. Fawn.
I take particular care in
everything I write with characters inspired by people I love and if Mrs. Fawn is
amazing, it’s because of Mom. There’s as much magic to the character as there
is love, whimsicalness, depth, vulnerability, and strength. As a writer, although
I know I can get better, I know that I cannot write with more love in certain
circumstances and for certain characters. In hindsight, I realize that I wrote Her
just outside our existence and swimming in a river of time because I needed
that. I’ll always need that because I need writing to make sense of what I live
and Mom helps me make sense of what I live. Some readers find out Mrs. Fawn is
based on Mom and many say they wish they could have met Her. I reply by saying
that in a way, they did.
1,827 days might be a bleep in
the cosmos or feel like a lifetime. Maybe it’s a little bit of everything and
not just one thing. What we feel and how we feel it is up to us though. When someone
loses a loved one, I never say, “I know exactly what you’re going through.” I
never say it because it might be a nice sentiment, but it’s false. Only you
know how you feel and allowing yourself to feel is something I shall always
encourage.
For Mom, I feel love, joy,
melancholy, laughter, sadness, pride, anger, gentleness, strength,
vulnerability, confusion, clarity, and everything in between. I feel this and
more. I experience this and more. And I allow myself to feel whatever I have to
feel. Life is a river. We might pick things up along the way, but forever much
we want to get back to where we were, it flows on and ahead there is the sea. So
a part of me thinks we’re giving Mom a good lead so she can find us the best
places to surf, to dine, to share a glass of wine or its metaphysical
equivalent. I think this in part because it gives me peace and in part because
it’s possible.
What happens next? We don’t know.
But what’s happened? That’s our
treasure and I’m proud of our crown jewel and all the amazing gems I’ve found
along the way. And I’m thankful to you for reading and giving this text a
moment of your time, which is the greatest gift of all.
Peace, love, and lemon cake
