How did we get here, friend?
Almost thirty-five years ago we met in high school. After I moved to another town we wrote letters faithfully; just about every other day a letter would arrive or go out. We filled each missive with as much detail as we could pack into 5-10 pages of college ruled notebook paper. Just a few years after that we sat side by side in the parking lot at McDonald’s, eating our ice cream sundaes (caramel!) and making our life plans. We talked about the future for our band, we planned a rock club that would be the coolest spot around, we solved the world’s problems – all in that one spot. I still think we could open that club, if we just had funding and time and …. and.
And life gets in the way, doesn’t it?
We started families, watched our children grow, supported each other through heartaches and family splits. When one of our children hurt we hurt too; when one of us had success, we cheered the other on. And even though our children are mostly all grown, and as old as we were all those years ago, I guess deep down I still thought of us as those kids sitting at McDonald’s planning world domination.
But this week your world turned on its end, and there aren’t any words that will help it. Your mom left this earthly plane, leaving you behind to look at the empty space she left in your life. There’s never a good time to say goodbye to your mother, to suddenly realize she’s not a phone call away. Holidays, birthdays, future plans are all made different, less bright, and may even feel unmanageable right now.
All your feelings are correct.
We come to think of our parents as permanent fixtures, only to find out they’ve been on loan all along. And one never really knows the loan terms, or when it will be called in. One day suddenly becomes the last day, and you’re left holding onto memories with a desperate grip on a past that flew by too quickly and a life that lives on only in the remembrances of those who knew them.
I believe that the people we love are still here, around us. But it doesn’t make it any easier when you can’t see or access them or their love. I wish I had the magic words to fix this for you, my friend.
Here, sit down beside me at this McDonald’s. We’ll have an ice cream sundae, and instead of planning world domination, we can sit in silence. Or you can tell me all your memories of her, and all the times she made you laugh, and all the reasons she should still be here.
She should.
And in a way she is, in you.
Her love though? That was never on loan. That was her gift to you.
