Happy Sunday everyone! What a beautiful snow blanket we are covered in this morning! I love sitting cozy in front of the fire watching it snow and thinking of my Mom. I love living in the mountains, where I’ve always known would be my home and final resting place. I love being in love. As I learn what it means to be in love and how it feels to be in love…I love being in love more and more.
To be in love and I mean really in love, you have to bare your soul, don’t you? You have to bare witness to someone else’s soul too, don’t you? You have to really, really put yourself out there and to trust. You have to be naked in the fucking snow, so to speak, with icicles hanging off of you and you must trust that there is enough warmth within you to endure it. You have to be willing to do the hard work of loving first and risking not being loved in return. Sadly, this will happen to you. You will hurt and you will weep and you will want to not love anymore. And then you will love and someone will love you back and you will forget that you swore to never love again. Love scares the shit out of so many people. Love didn’t hurt us. Love never hurt us. Hurt people who didn’t know how to love us hurt us. Love did not hurt us. We, being hurt people ourselves, hurt people. Love did not do the damage that hurt people blame love for. Hurt people hurt people. (Lyric from one of my favorite songs…just escaped me which song and by whom…I apologize). We must know this so that we stopped blaming love and shying away from love. We must go toward the love. At all costs, we must go toward the love.
At the cemetery yesterday in bone chilling winds, my tears burned my face. The grass…the headstone…the whole fucking world was cold. My heart though…my heart was warm. As I drove off and pulled around to leave, there was a woman collapsed by a grave near my moms…sobbing and weeping and the shiver and tremor and pain ran through my very soul. My heart cracked and I sobbed for her. I sent her all of my love as I left her there to do what I have done so many times before…allow her to break and to pull herself back up in her time. I fucking loved that woman…right there…right then…I loved her through her enormous grief and I love her still and I do not even know her name. We do not have to know names and details that are none of our business anyway, do we? We do not. We can love another because we feel them so deeply that we cannot not know that we are them and they are us. Umbuntu. I am because you are. Do we not fall in love every day with pieces of our fractured selves that we cannot escape or heal…places that we don’t even recognize as our own when we see them in another? When I felt that woman sobbing on her knees on the very soil that I have soaked with my own tears so, so many times before…I did not need to know her name or for whom she cried. I only knew that I fucking loved her with all of my heart. We are here to love.
I woke this morning crying in my sleep, as the impending doom of December 3rd hit me in my heart center, my gut…my very fucking soul. Tomorrow at 12:06pm, three years ago…as I held my mothers hand, and she opened her eyes one last time, squeezed my hand and took her final breath…my Mom launched out of her body and soars above, around, within us all. I carried my mom home…just as my mom carried me in. My mom had a lifetime to look forward to in those tiny and yet unopened eyes and my time ran out as I placed my hands over her eyes and closed them one last time. Time does run out. We don’t do things because we don’t know how and so we just don’t. I can promise you this…I didn’t know how to lose my mom or how to follow that fucking hearse into those cemetery gates and to leave without her. I didn’t know how to do that and my mom wasn’t here to tell me how to do that and I did it. My mom left her body and then we had to leave her body there and what in the fuck is that?! Truly…who knows how to do that?! No one knows how to do that and so we do the best we can and we rely upon those who love us to help us to figure it out. That is love. Being in love is just that…being, in action…love…for someone…for yourself…be in love. You’ve only two choices…love or fear. We have been taught and programmed to fear…and yet we are love. I am. You are. We are love.
Sherry wants you to call your Mom…your Dad…your husband…your brother…your sister…your wife…your kids…your best friend…your grandparents…your neighbor…Sherry hates texting and she insists that you must call someone whom you say that you cannot live without. Not your husband in the next room. Give me a good honest reach here for someone that for whatever reason, you have been afraid to reach out to…afraid to call…call them now. My Mom and I are okay and we will always be okay. I’ve no regrets. Not a single one. My moms dying words to me, as were often her words in life to me, “Leave me alone.” And I did not leave her alone. Thank God that once again I did not listen to her!!! I did not leave her alone. I stayed by her side and I loved her home. You can do that too you know…what you want…what you need…you can do that too. If you want to call your mom…call her. If you are afraid to make that call, definitely make that call. I promise you that if you don’t make that call, you will run out of time to make that call and then you will wish you had made the fucking call. Your time will run out and your wishing you had done it will be for you to deal with in your grief. Don’t do that to you. Trust me…make the call. Hear her voice. Tell her thank you. Tell her you love her. One day there will be a phone with her number still in it that no longer connects to her. Her voice will begin to fade from your mind…your texts will have been lost in phone upgrades and you will be on your fucking knees wishing you could just talk to her one last time. I can’t. You can. Do me a favor and call her, okay?