A Letter to Mommie

Ma,
Six years ago today
You left us.
By leaving, I mean that
Your physical body
Ceased to work,
And we were no longer
Gifted with your human presence.
No longer would I be warmed
By your words,
Or alternately pierced by your blazing eyes.
No longer would you reach out
And touch my arm or grab my shoulder
As you passed by...
Establishing contact,
Just saying "hi."

Today I feel the lack of you
Like a ball of molten lead
Sitting in the middle of my chest.
It's a hot, magmatic mess.
Right now,
I am a hot, magmatic mess.

So much has changed
During these past six years.
I am not who you remember.
I am different, aged,
More resilient and more sensitive,
More tuned in to God,
And more tuned in to myself
As His child.
There are moments my life
Does not make any rational sense to me,
And somehow, that's okay.
There are moments I wish that I
Could talk to you,
Face to face...
Could hear your wisdom...
Could experience the way you made me
Laugh at my own seriousness
Without making me self-conscious.
When I wasn't afraid to approach you,
You would always provide me with
Feedback, and comfort, and support.
I wish I could share with you
All the crazy, zany, everyday experiences
Of my life with Adalheid and the tribe in AZ.
It's strange to acknowledge that
If you were here,
I would never have moved.
My life continues to be shaped
By 29 years of your presence,
And the remainder of my days
By your absence.

I am trying so hard
To do the right things.
Things that matter,
That positively impact other lives.
I am trying so hard
To hear God's voice in my life,
To discern what He would like me to do,
And not trip over myself in the process.

I don't wrestle with Demon Depression
Like I used to.
I have blue days, and black and blue days,
But nothing like the abyss I once hovered over.
Consequently, Demon Alcohol
No longer exerts a hold on me either.
I don't want to drink myself into oblivion.
I can drink, and not want to get drunk.

That has been mightily tested
During my last few weeks in New York.

I am bone weary
From the situation with your younger daughter.
There are times I feel like
She is draining the life out of me.
I am angry that no one else
Wants the burden of helping her,
And I'm too sensitive to the devastation in her
To let her fall alone beneath its weight
Without putting up a fight alongside her.
I am trying to prop her up,
Without losing sight of myself.
Her nature remains foreign to me;
There are moments I vacillate between
Wanting to hug her
And wanting to smack her. 
I can't stay long enough with her
To make her happy.
I can't leave fast enough to return to AZ
To make everyone else happy.
I am braced for the weeks ahead,
The strings of disappointments
That will trail my actions,
Whatever they may be.
A little of your strength and conviction
Would be welcome gifts right now.

Finding the balance is so damn hard.

Help me help her get settled.
And then help me get back to AZ.

I wonder what you would say to me
About the choices I have made,
And the actions I am taking.
I wonder what you would say to me
About pursuing the things I have always wanted,
And choosing the compatriots
Who have become my second family
In your absence.

I pray that I will not forever be
Bereft of your presence.
As you wrote on the note
You sent Daddy into the afterlife with,
"Until we meet again..."