[Photos from the early years.]
Last time, I blogged about my brother's family's fear of the loss of their mother, my brother's ex-wife. A short time after I wrote that blog, their fear became a reality. I got the phone call at 1 am that said Sandy, beloved mother of three by birth and many by heart, adored sister, cherished friend, fur mama, and beloved soul mate of one slipped beyond the veil, leaving behind countless heavy hearts and teary eyes.
Thomas, her eldest son, and Amber, his wife, and their three children visit me regularly. I have seen how much they love Sandy. Things have not always been easy, but Thomas called her his rock. Amber calls her Mom. The family lived in the same apartment complex with her and frequently visited to play games, do laundry, give her the chance to play with grandbabies, or just hang out. I've held Thomas in my arms as he's sobbed out his pain, crying out for his mom. What do you say in the face of raw pain? They never really got to say goodbye. I wrote out a goodbye stream-of-consciousness hybrid poem/story from her point of view, but it will never be the same. They are heartbroken but know she is still there for them, cheering him on as he revises his novel she loved so he can publish it for her.
Andrew, her second, frequently chats with me. He calls his mother his best friend. He looked to her for so many things. He lived with her for quite a while toward the end. He is a lost soul without her but plans to write songs with his band in her honor to remember her. Over the years, he brought a string of friends to her doorstep, and none was turned away. They were all welcomed like her long-lost children.
Pandora, her youngest, was her baby. I called her the day after the loss, and we talked of her mother. She'd hoped her mother would pull through as she had so many times before.
Jose, her soulmate of ten plus years, misses her more than he can say. She was his life, his heart. He prayed for her life and now yearns to hear her voice.
All these people and more are reeling with the pain of loss. I know a lot of words, but there aren't words for this kind of pain. You can try to write around the swirling vortex of the heart. But actually capturing the pain or soothing it are things words can't really do well. They say time heals all wounds, but time really only helps one find coping mechanisms, ways to put together a life that has been shattered through loss. I pray for this family's peace. Other than listening and offering
