Belongings/Belonging/Be Longing

Busy with Belongings. Belongings that belong to another, or did.

Not just any other, but my mother. She died. She died on October 14, 2019.

I thought she needed to accept the fact that she was dying, gracefully. Almost 90 she was. Only two months shy. I waxed on about death as the next step in the adventure of life. Her coming meetups with her husband of 40 years. Her three sisters, her Mom and Dad. Her many friends who had preceded her. Just make the most of the time you have left! Enjoy each day to the fullest! I meant well. I know I believed what I said. But that was then.

Now I wish I had wailed with her about the misfortune of an untimely, unfair and earlier than we wanted demise. About how much I wished she wasn’t going to die. About how much I loved her, and wanted her around for another decade. But that’s now. Now that I’ve had the gift of her going. The forever distance that allows for the healing that couldn’t wouldn’t didn’t happen while she was alive. You see we were so much alike and so very different. It was the perfect storm.

A mother who needed wanted required clear black and whiteness. A daughter who wanted the world to revel in Love and freedom and expansive spontaneity. Nothing was black and white for me. And I was determined to do it as differently from her as was humanly possible.

And I was angry with her. Angry for what I experienced to be narrow-mindedness. Ignorance. Where was her soulfulness, community-mindedness, contributions to a better world? Her life made up of tennis, golf and bridge. Why did she seemingly judge my friends, my children, my choices? Why wasn’t she more like women I admired?

Now as I live in her house and move through the rooms of her belongings, grief slips in so unexpectedly. A dresser drawer full of this or that, traces of how she lived, what mattered and I am heaving great sobbing tears sliding. Who knew.

Looking at the pictures of her in her 20’s, 30’s, 40’s. Such joie de vivre. Spunky, playful, mischievous. Flirtatious, loving, kind. My god I think we could have been dear friends for each other! Some unidentified competitive underlying unspoken shadow darkened this possibility.

What got in the way of us belonging to each other more intimately, more deeply, more tenderly in life, beginning to be seen.

Oh dearest Mama. I wish you to know, how I love the ring you gave me. Your wedding ring. How beautiful it is and how honored I am that you chose to give it to me. I want you to know how much I love you, for all that you gave to your world. For just being you.

In our life together, the sense of honoring was missing. Now it seems to have taken up residence in my soul. I will honor you in how I wrap up the rest of what needs doing, taking great care with what you took such care of.

You and I are developing a new relationship, now, each of us, on the other side. Be Longing. For each other. Forever.