I slept in late today. I didn't get up until 5:30 this morning! I don't know why I can't sleep but it is frustrating to say the least. Not surprisingly, I dreamed of my mother again last night. I wish I could remember what takes place during my dreams of her, but by the time I get up I've already forgotten what they entail. Perhaps I'll put a pen and piece of paper on my nightstand so that I can write them down as they occur. Generally, I wake up several times during the night (always after a dream) so I'll have many opportunities to take notes!
The sun never really rose this morning. I kept waiting for it to appear over the hillside but this morning was only full of bleakness: all gloomy and gray. Winter has not officially begun. Yet it has made an early presence here in St. Louis. Sadly, all the glory of yesterday's sublime sunrise was non-existent today. Perhaps that is why we must appreciate beauty in life whenever possible. It's God's little way of making us seek out the wonder of our world.
We had an ice storm last evening. Piercing winds and Arctic air moved in together with frozen sheets of rain: leaving roads and sidewalks nearly impassible. This afternoon, after all of the salt trucks had done their duty, I ventured out to do a little shopping for next week's Christmas dinner. I hate crowds and would prefer to gather what I need when the stores are not hectic; nearly impossible at this time of year. I moved from isle to isle within the grocery store, staring blankly at the shelves, not really knowing what to purchase. I should have made a list, I know. But my mind has trouble focusing on many of the every day responsibilities I so recently took for granted. Is this all part of mourning for my mother?
After about an hour I was able to check-out, not really knowing what I actually purchased. I did buy enough eggs to make my home-made noodles though, so I know I've done something right. My son, Justin, will be happy! My cupboards seemed to be full after putting the groceries away upon returning home. I guess whatever is in them will have to suffice as the ingredients for our Christmas dinner. It may consist of dishes from our oven that are different than ever before, but our holiday is different this year too. My mother is not here. She has only been gone a little over three weeks. It seems like a lifetime ago yet simultaneously a mere moment ago. My timing is off. The normal register is not yet in place. Sometimes I feel as if my mind is meandering along a road with no end in sight. I can't seem to focus on life in general. Will this end at some point in time? Is there truly any closure to losing a loved one? If so, I don't feel it. I'm not there, yet.
I spoke to my father again this afternoon. He was nearly out of breath after just returning from one of his weekly swim sessions. Telling me about it, he made me smile. He's doing the best he can, I know. Although he stumbles I am sure, he still makes the effort to put one foot in front of the other in order to keep moving. He never complains: instead he chooses to try to cheer me up. Still, I can hear his voice crackle at times, especially when he speaks of Mother. For him, it's almost as if she's simply out on an errand; ready to walk in their front door at any given time. She is very much in his present. "Mom's vegetable soup is always so good," he said today. "I'm going to try to make it in the crock pot."
"I've got my ticket to come out again next month, Dad," I exclaimed. "Oh good, I'll be so glad to have you here," he added, his voice overflowing with love and anticipation. Seeing my father again is something I'm greatly looking forward to. But, the tasks that await my return weigh heavy on my mind. I've got a lot of things to do that I know will be hard on me. Sorting through my mother's clothing, cleaning out her closets, and organizing her kitchen so that it will be more conducive to my father's needs (alone now) are just a few of the many things to be completed upon my return.
Maybe that is why I feel so unsettled today. The past (when my mother was alive and well) is now gone. The present, in which I exist and live my life doesn't feel normal to me yet. And, the future (without my mother) is too painful to contemplate.
Today, I feel as though I'm living in Twilight Zone.
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