It’s Not an Option

It was the call you didn’t want to get and I didn’t actually “get” it because I couldn’t find my home phone.  All I heard was “Mom” and “hospital” and something about her heart.  I grabbed my Iphone and called my Step Dad back within seconds.

My Mom was complaining about chest and shoulder pain and she was being transported to San Antonio to a hospital ten minutes away from me.  Try putting on makeup after getting news that your mother possible is suffering from a heart attack.  Somehow I managed. 

I’m on the other side of this ordeal, for now.  I had to write this out of my system.  It’s how I cope.  Mom is doing well but this event has opened my eyes to the idea that maybe I could lose my Mom, as if death happens to other people.  Mom is a woman I always imagined hanging on well into her 90’s and when she goes to be with the Lord, those of us left behind will say, “She lived a long life.”  We’d be down cast but not crushed if it had happened sooner.

*Warning – There is one F-bomb.* 

I tried to imagine a world without you and I stopped dreaming.  I can’t see my life without you in it.  I don’t need to.  It’s not an option.

I didn’t let that fear settle in my chest when they rolled you away.  “They do this all the time.  It’s standard procedure,” I tell myself.  And like a faucet I shut that thought down and chided myself for feeling insecure, almost… foolish.

Foolish?  Really?

So I flipped the bird to the voices in my head “Fuck you, I’m scared,” and there’s nothing wrong with being scared.  There’s nothing wrong when you’re in that dark, lonely moment of uncertainty to admit that you are scared; scared of losing someone you love.

And it’s not someone you just “love” it’s someone you love that has been the foundation your life was built upon and suddenly it’s been cracked. You realize that it could fade away leaving you … where?

Surely Christ is my foundation but I didn’t get there without you.  You’re the sure step I fall upon when I slip off.  You right me.  You point me back to Him.  I look back over my shoulder, looking for you, knowing you will lift me up and encourage me to continue the race.  Where would I be without you there?

 I don’t know because it’s not an option.

 

I love you, Mom.  You mean the world to me, a world that you fill with your wisdom and faith and creativity and generosity.  I hope to be a quarter of the woman you are today.  

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2 thoughts on “It’s Not an Option

  1. Princess Diana says:

    Oh Candace, sweet Candace, I remember so well the news about my Mom’s stroke. It literally doubled me over with pain and grief, falling on the floor, wailing in grief. She lived another 6 weeks, paralyzed on her right side, unable to speak. So. shoving away to present and moving to the past is how I coped. My mom died 11 years ago, my dad 31 years ago and I still cry and ache at certain times; birthdays, special occasions or memories jump up and leave me paralyzed emotionally. My heart so aches for you. Hugs and much love

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