Letting Go And Holding On

Today was one of those days that I drove to work in complete silence. No X96 Radio From Hell, no iPod or Glee soundtrack.  Silence.  I guess I had a lot on my mind that I needed to process. If you have never tried being alone with your thoughts during your daily commute, I encourage you to try it. I find it a good time to do some general noggin housecleaning. I dust off the thoughts, clear out the cobwebs and even do some rearranging. (Occasionally I find things rolling around in my head that I had completely forgotten about, or never realized to begin with, and I have one of those How the HELL did that get in there? moments, but alas, not today.)



You would think that after our Hawaii Trip From Hell, that would be first and foremost on my mind. But it wasn't. Instead my thoughts turned to people. Right now there are people on the fringes of my life that are living in very chaotic and sad circumstances and my thoughts gravitated toward them. For my loved ones, I felt sorrow and worry for their strife. I offered up silent thoughts of peace and comfort for them. (Religious people might call it prayer but I am not religious people.) I held tightly to the feeling of gratitude for all that I have in my life. Even though our "dream vacation" was a disaster, my family is whole and mostly healthy. I lost some valuable material possessions, but I am still able to wrap my arms around my family and feel their love as I freely give them mine. I came to the obvious conclusion that although there will always be stress and worry, I will want for nothing as long as I hold my family close. I will continue to send my thoughts of hope and healing for those that are going through difficult times. And should any of them find themselves in my immediate vicinity, I will wrap my arms around them and offer them my support and my simple gift of love because I have that in abundance.

I also found myself thinking about my mother who has endured so much pain and loss over the last year. There are so many layers to the loss that I find myself understanding something new all the time. This morning I realized something that hit me like a wall of brick. It is a  small thing that equates to a monumental loss that I had not considered before and my heart ached for Mom.

On Sunday we visited my parents for Father's Day.  It always makes me happy when I see the younger cousins laughing and playing together. Ghosts of my childhood echo around me and I smile to myself as I recognize memories in the making. On that day the adults were discussing books, a common summertime conversation in our family, and my mother graciously let me borrow several small books that she has recently enjoyed. My appetite for good books knows no boundaries and I was excited about new reading material!

Even though I was exhausted from lingering jet lag and a long day at work, I opened one of the books last night and began to read the pages. I could tell by the tight spine that this particular book had not been opened before, but Mom had explained to me that she loved this story and had given each of her sisters a copy last summer because the message was valuable and timely. The book is titled, "For One More Day" by Mitch Albom. It is the story of a man who feels as though he has nothing to live for and tries to take his own life. When, by some miracle, he survives, he is stunned to discover that his long-deceased mother is somehow alive again and he has the opportunity to spend time with her.  Although it is a very short book, I haven't finished reading it yet. But already so many things stand out as I read it.  On one of the pages I read how when Death took his mother, it also took the word "Mom" with it.

Ouch.

So there I was, curled up in my favorite reading nook, understanding something about my mom that I had not considered yet. "Mom" is still a frequent word in my vocabulary (thankfully) but my mom and my dear aunties have lost that word and it aches to realize that. As I drove to work in silence today, I vowed to say it for myself and for them, from now on.  Mom. Such a small, yet powerful word.  And something that is sure to leave an endless void when it is gone.

Mom, this one's for you.  Always.