How can a bowl of oatmeal make me sad? Why do warm peaches, wet blueberries and salty cereal make me want to cry? She would take the bowls out, I would pour the milk, she would measure the fruit and I would cook the cereal. I would grab the saltshaker and she would lecture me on my health. This simple habit was part of our morning routine for almost a year and the very reason why oatmeal makes me sad.
It is hard to believe that today marks five months since my mother passed away. It was just five short months ago when I said my goodbye. I recently wrote to a friend and shared with her that I think my crier is stuck. I know there is tears deep inside my soul that still need to be shed but I guess it is just not their time.
What if every single teardrop had its own purpose, its own ways of helping me walk through grief? Maybe shedding them too soon or not soon enough could force the very natural process of grieving for the what ifs and the use to Bs’.
I miss the sound of her shuffling feet the oxygen she breathed and the way she called my name when I left the room. I miss our morning routine, our prayers of thanksgiving and our trips to the pews. I miss our times in the garden and the warm cups of coffee we would sip as we sat in a booth sharing about the sermons we had heard.
I miss the way we would wind down the evening with the kids, a good book, a devotional and an evening prayer. I miss the smell of her perfume floating out of the bathroom and into the entryway of the house when she had just finished showering.
I miss how she would slurp through her straw and challenge me with her eyes. I miss how her life caused me to slow down and in the setting of the pace; I enjoyed more around me, from the relationships to the experiences because of her. Because of her, I learned to fold into the moment and treat every minute as a gift from God.
The greatest lesson I have learned over that last several months is that when I allow myself to dance with my struggle and embrace my grief, when I choose to enter into those two experiences with honesty and authenticity I become stronger for the next time I have to stand in the gap. Most importantly, what I have learned from the last five months is not to fear death and to trust life.
Nevertheless, oatmeal still makes me sad and fruit makes me cry. What I would give to have just one more breakfast with my mom.
Cris
