There are those of us who write our feelings so much better than we could ever say them.
For me, I think the written word and the silence it has to offer is so much more meaningful than the sound that accompanies verbal communication.
Not to mention that there are always those who just love to hear themselves talk. To me that form of communication has the strong possibility of cheapening the emotion.
Simply put, I hear better when there is silence. I feel better when writing in silence. I can feel my whatever the emotion may be and also do it in a more constructive way, whilst typing away my feelings, thoughts, etc.
So here goes nothing I got a little diarrhea of the finger to keyboard and I have a strong need to dump my load from ink to paper.
My mother died this morning a 6:10. I do believe she is with my sweet father Jesus, who will allow her to bask in his glory and love on her mother, father, brother, first son-In/law Mike and not to mention at least 3 grandchildren she never got to meet.
I’ve come to realize after my first husbands, my father’s and now mother’s passing that death like life is one heck of a trip.
I feel so much obligation to celebrate my loved one’s passing through our life’s interactions.
Tonight it is mom who I want/need to celebrate. I must preface by saying that I am one heck of a hard ass nut and I expect a lot of others and myself. But what I am learning is that the world really doesn’t revolve about my “hard-ass-ness”. I wish I had learned that sooner.
I judged my mother so strongly due to my own childhood hurts. What hurt the most was that I thought my mother was never happy. I wanted so much for her to be. Actually I wanted both my parents to love life because isn’t that what we all want to achieve, while here.
I wish I’d have spent less time judging her and more time relishing in her strengths and gifts.
She was so childlike. She was wonderful with small children and naptimes with mommy were special. She could weave a tale like nobody’s business and I realize now it is her I got that from.
She was a good sport, for sure. Because not only her children but also her extended family could torment her and she would just go with our flow. I remember more than one occasion involving a can of fart spray (John).
She had the voice of an angel and she knew it. Actually I think that is the only thing my mother felt good about. She had little, if any confidence except in the fact that she could sing.
She was so stinking beautiful, actually she was stunning. But she never saw what the rest of us saw. So sad and for so long I couldn’t understand that. I’m sorry mommy. I know your happy now and singing “I hope” at the top of your lungs.