Morning Mournings

My mom called me sobbing the other day. "I miss your dad so much. I feel so terribly lonely," she said. My dad passed away 3 months ago. I fell silent.  It is strange to see my mom in such despair. It's so very unlike her in many ways. I've fallen apart like that so many times over such little things that pale in comparison - like a break-up with a guy I had just met a month ago, or the death of a feral cat in the neighborhood. And my mother would always tell me that it's not worth my tears. She'd come up with clever quotes such as "there are many more mothers out there with gorgeous sons." Or a note she once left on my pillow with a Dalai Lama quote saying: "Everyone wants a happy life. Me too," signed "Sleep well, Mom," after discovering my hidden mountain of wet tissues soaked with tears wept over yet another breakup.

So this situation presented itself as a weird reversal of the roles. Usually I'm the tender-hearted one with her world spinning out of control. This time it's my mom. I never know what to do or say when my mom cries. I can't hug her, because we're an ocean apart. I can't quote Eckhart Tolle to her in an effort to change her perspective and take on a more positive outlook on the present, because it's not what she wants to hear at that moment. I can't tell her how much I miss dad myself, that I randomly burst out into tears on walks with the dog or at the grocery store or waiting at a traffic light, because it wouldn't soothe her heart. The truth is that we all have to find our own ways of dealing with the gaping hole and the unanswered questions that are left behind when someone so loved passes away. 

So instead I say: "Mom, should I tell you something about my day?" Distraction seems to be the best instant weapon when dealing with such sadness. She agrees and so I tell her about all the fun things I can think of that have happened in the past three or four days since we last spoke. I joke about PMS and crying because of a Rosetta Stone commercial: "It's so moving, because that woman learned the language, and now they can communicate, and it's just so moving," I thought, followed by "What the fuck is wrong with me? Oooooh, my hormones."

Thankfully I am a the social person I am and therefore had things to share with my mom. Thankfully I'm the optimistic life-lover. Thankfully I'm bubbly and think that my life is hilarious. Because every day I choose to keep on living.  I believe that the important thing when someone dies is not to die with them. And who really knows what's next? Life is so much bigger than us. Chances are death is, too.

"What a caterpillar calls the end of the world, we call a butterfly" (Eckhart Tolle).