On the Avoidance of Death

I think she knew, as I kissed her that last time, that we would never see each other again.
I’d promised to come back, not the morrow, because everyone else would be there then; but the day after that. I didn’t want to tire her.
But she was gone, early that next day. As if she wanted us to Christmas without trips to the hospice, or maybe she was just tired or maybe she was just ready.
When I heard, when I got the phone call, I couldn’t breathe out properly; and that sensation lasted for the entirety of the next year. The urge to be with my mother overwhelmed me. Nothing on the earth would have kept me from being at her side and I don’t remember the short journey to her house. For me, the loss of ones mother was an absolute horror, a nightmare worse than those that fill picture houses. Those evil clowns, those unseen nightmares couldn’t hold their weight next to it.
I wanted so much to cradle my own mother, to cocoon her and protect her; as she had me. I expected her to fall apart, and I was willing to stand in her stead while she did. To give her this time to grieve, to remember, to rant or scream. To do whatever it was she might need to do.
But it wasn’t necessary; I found things were carrying on relatively normal, it was still Christmas Eve, a bright, blue cold day; and people were busy.
I wasn’t needed to do anything.
It didn’t occur to me at the time, that it was me that needed the cradling and that she was doing what it was she needed to do. Or maybe we were avoiding reality.
Death. You never know how you will react, or what you will do to avoid your heart suffering that pain again.
And you can’t avoid it, not really. You can only fool yourself that you are.


3 thoughts on “On the Avoidance of Death

  1. The Under the Weather Girl says:

    Incredibly powerful and evocative. I’m so sorry for your loss. I do thank you for writing this. Lx

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