Tuesday, May 1, 2012

The Sweetness of Sleep

"My heart is sore pained within me:  and the terrors of death are fallen upon me.
Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me."
Psalm 55:4,5  (KJV)

Last night, it hit me with full, overwhelming force.
It was the time of day I would always pick up the phone and call her.
Just to say, "I just wanted to tell you goodnight.  I hope you rest well.  If you need me, call."

Or she would call me first....just to say the same.

Oh, dear God!
This hurts SO much.
It is near unbearable.

Kevin had to work....all...night....long.
I felt torn apart as I had watched him leave.
The long night loomed over me...threateningly....like never-ending anguish.
Why did it have to be end-of-the-month?
When I needed him most?
How would I make it through the night?

Without being able to call her....anytime I needed to?

No matter what time of the day or night, I would always get the same response.
Love.  Acceptance.  Understanding.  Like I wasn't putting her out...in the least.
Like my problems were the only problems in the world.
Like she would do anything within her power to make things right for me.

Here's how our conversation would go....
"Mom, I'm sorry to call so late."
"Oh, that's okay, honey.  I wasn't asleep."
"Are you sure, Mom?"
"No, I wasn't asleep.  I was just praying."

Oh, dear Lord, how would one ever replace a mother....a mother like that?
There are some things in this life that just can't be done.
There is just...no...way.
She's selfless.  Unassuming.  Kind to the core.

Zachary was filled with anxiety.

We both wanted to see her so much.
My heart ached deep.

Some of the first lines to one of my favorite songs, were playing through my mind.
"This house is falling down around my ears,
I'm drowning in a river of my tears..."

I said, "Zach, let's get out of here.  Let's just go someplace."

He said, "Mama, what can we do?  Mama, how can we find a substitute?  For her?"

"There is none, Zachary.  There is none."

We thought of driving to my sister's.
To take comfort in shared sorrow.
It is quite far.
It was so late.

We headed out the door....to McDonald's.
Our car is old.
It didn't matter.
One more minute...in the quiet of the house...was going to be too much.

I backed out of the driveway.
"Zach, I just want to turn that way.  I just want to go that way."
"Mama, she's not there."
"I know, Zach, but I just want to pretend she is....pretend she is still there...and go that way."

I mustered the strength and turned the wheel in the opposite direction....
away from her apartment...
away from the pull...that was so strong,
so filled with the terror of the overwhelming realization that Zach was right.
She's not there.

We went to McDonalds and ordered a few things.
Zach found us a quiet table in the back.
Away from traffic and curious stares.
Thankfully, there was hardly anyone there, anyway.

We sat, we ate, and we were just there....for each other.
We stayed as long as we could.
Then we headed back home.

I called my dear friend, and we talked for over two hours.
She lost her mother.
She was Godly, too.
She knows how this hurts.
She listened, she cried with me, and somehow, I got sleepy enough to go to that place of solace...peace...rest.

Where the knowledge of what just hit me is nonexistent.
Thank God for something called sleep and the oblivion it so graciously provides.

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