once was a carer

I wonder what she’s doing now but then, I catch myself – she’s not! How can someone just cease to exist? I do miss my mother. For several years, if I’m honest, I resented the dictation of my life. Death didn’t bring instant happiness. Nothing much is different. Except a hovering sadness which lifts in spurts – in time it will push back, drift off, fade out. It can’t have all been for nothing. I predict major change, I just don’t know when yet.

Sometimes it’s easier to just pretend she’s next door doing what she always did. I even hear the noise of her stick against the floorboards, signal that she was on the move. But of course I don’t! Does that mean, that when she was sitting in her blue and white armchair, and tapped wood on wood, that she wasn’t actually getting up at all? I was hearing things. OR. Does the house creak now in sympathy, with the bones of pain moved on?

When I was young and fed the christian story, I always wondered about this notion of heaven. Supposedly you’d be reunited with loved ones, with everyone you knew. Does everyone remain the age they died? Is she now older than her own mother, is she a small child with her parents, a young bride with my father…and what about the two babies that started to grow inside me but didn’t breathe in this lifetime, does she get to grandmother them? How is that concept reconciled…

I believe that we are all connected. Generations past live through me. I hope, somewhere down the line someone will sit on a couch and consider – I have impacted their time on this coil.

I do miss you mother.

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6 thoughts on “once was a carer

  1. I think we all heal, all get beyond in our own time and way and as you say, a change will come although we can’t ever peg that point in time.
    There is so much energy, such a force within human beings that, while I don’t buy into heaven or God I do wonder where all that energy goes when the body stops. It seems as if it must go somewhere, rather absorbed by other living beings or simply back into the dust of stars…

    • I’m sorry I’m so late in replying to this gorgeous comment Deb…I specially love your last sentence. I’ve been quiet lately as you know, and reading even less…change is starting 🙂

  2. This is a beautiful piece of writing and wonderful tribute to your mother. It is also really thought-provoking and poignant and has made me pause. Thank you and I’m so sorry for your losses.

    • Thank you Julie and I’m sorry I’m just replying to the comments on this post now. I read them at the time but in not having replied immediately time got away… and I haven’t caught up on your life for a while. I hope all is well. I’ll stop by shortly.

  3. Annie when we think to much about it, it can look like this. You have expressed it very well. My thought is when I leave here I will be waiting in a white airport like room with sliding doors. If I have completed my mission correctly on earth the door slides back and I am welcomed by the ones I love into another level of learning. If I failed on earth another door opens and I go back and do it all over again. Yes I think too much about it all but hey at least I have a good imagination. Hope each day gets a little lighter for you.

    • You often express Buddhist beliefs and perhaps without realising Kath…your sliding doors concept is a good analogy for reaching enlightenment…otherwise back we come again on the wheel of samsara.

      Excuse my late reply to your comment. I had three such lovely comments on this post and feel quite remiss for only thinking I’d answered them! The case for a holiday from work, from Myself! is building 😉

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