Visceral Connections

The night that my husband left for basic training, I went out to my parents house for supper.  I moped around, cried a little, but functioned.

Then I came home, and I got ready for bed.  I started to slip beneath the covers only to realize in physical reality that his body would not be next to mine.

And I called my Mommy.

I called, even though it was well past the proper time to call anybody.  And I cried.  I sobbed, and I screamed and I hollered.  “Mama, Mama….  I can’t do this.  I don’t want to do this.  I want him.  Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama….”

I think of that night so often now.  I still need my Mommy.  I still have so many nights when I just need to call her and scream, “Mama, Mama, Mama…”

Tonight, I deliberately watched the movie Two Weeks which chronicles the last two weeks in the life of the mother of four siblings.  I rightly guessed that I would laugh as much as I would cry.  I guessed that the film would approach the subject in a way that brought the quirky humanity of a family going through the dying process of one of it’s members together.

I suspected it would cause me to feel some things I haven’t allowed myself to feel in some time.  And I was ok with that.

At the end of the film I broke into sobs.  “MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA MOMMMMMMMEEEEEEEE” 

And as I did that I heard the echo of my 13 month old daughter who choruses “Mama, Mama, Mama,” as she goes throughout her day.  Anytime she needs something, or hurts, or is scared, or wants to share a discovery with someone I hear those beautiful words and I love them.

I felt this visceral connection down to my core tonight, as I shouted that word over and over and over again.  How tightly and intricately woven are the roles of one as a daughter, and one as a mother.

How is it that I pay attention to that so infrequently?

I long for my mother.  I long for her arms.  I long for an answer when I sob out her name, but all that comes in emptiness.  All that ever will come for the rest of my life will be emptiness, and longing, and the blackness of her absense in my life.

And so I turned tonight instead to Jesus.  And I begged him to hold me.  And He did.  And He is.

And tomorrow it won’t hurt any less.  It never really stops hurting.  But I’ve learned to find joy again, to be normal again, to be me–changed, wizened…  But me.  I’ll go back to that tomorrow.

For tonight, I just want my Mama.  And I am in that.  Christ is in that with me.  And that will have to be enough.


5 thoughts on “Visceral Connections

  1. I cry as I read this. I know you have pain because you’ve lost her. From my perspective I find that, in a way, beautiful. Beautiful because you had such a close bond with your mother. My mother has always, even when I was a kid, leaned on ME. She has never been one I could go to when I needed to cry. I feel terrible for you that you have lost your mother, but at the same time, I am happy for you that you had such a relationship to be mourned.

  2. I keep praying for there to be easier days ahead Val, honest I do — and now I’ll be praying all the more. This post really got me in the heart because it was a little window into what it will feel like when I lose my own mom. We are really close and when you have a close bond like that — wow. It hurts to even think about her not being here, so I can’t even emotionally go to the place in my own mind where you’ve had to live every day. Just know that you’re in my prayers, OK?



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