You know, sometimes, like tonight, I really wish I could talk to you, I mean really talk to you like we used to talk, sitting on my bed in my bedroom, laughing, crying and just connecting for hours. To see the life and understanding in your eyes, to hear your words of encouragement knowing that you are pulling for me and building me up. Realizing the countless hours that you have spent in prayer on my behalf. No telling what kind of a mess I would be in today had it not been for you.
Oh if I could just roll back the clock just a few short years to connect with you again. Or even several decades to feel your hand on my back on a cold winter morning, waking me up for school as you sang "there was a boy, a little strange enchanted boy, who wondered very far, very far, very far from hoooooooooome" Do you remember the time that I realized that was actually a Nat King Cole song and not one that you just made up? No, you don't remember do you? Because you are here but you are gone. The intense love and understanding in your eyes have faded to just empty eyes that stare blankly at nothing. I talk to you but I don't know if you understand anymore. Do you know how much I truly miss you? How I wish I could just have you living here with me, safe and secure, to take care of you like you took care of me. My heart is crushed as I think about you wondering the halls of that home, not really knowing where you are, not really knowing who it is that is passing you in the hallway, or thinking about you sitting alone in your room just waiting as another day passes.
Your husband passed away this summer mom. He was a great man, a war hero, a flawed but loving father. But you did not even know it. You just said "something seems to be missing".
You weren't just my mom, you were my best friend. Remember that song I wrote about you? "Behold my mom, she's sweeter than the sweetest song, she brings such joy to my heart. Whenever I was in need, somehow she could always see. So many times we sat and cried. I'm glad she's on my side". I remember the last time I sang it to you. You always got tears in your eyes and smiled so grandly.
I know you did not want this to happen, you did what you could to prevent it but sometimes, life just happens. But there has never been a cooler mom than you. I remember the day that you told me that you did not like your name, Dolores, because it meant sorrow. But then the day that I realized that it was really a variation of dolorosa, as in the via dolorosa - a distressing or painful journey or process. The term used to describe the walk of our Savior to the cross. A journey that was unbelievable painful and lonely for one man, abandoned by his friends, beaten beyond comprehension and forced to carry his own cross to his imminent death. A journey that led to his death but that brought life, light, love and joy to the world. That is what you have done also mom. You have touched so many hearts, changed so many lives, breathed hope into so many hopeless hearts.
Alzheimer.
You are a vicious thief.
You have stolen my mom from me, from her friends, from the world.
I wish I could pick up the phone to call you mom. I wish I could get my ass handed to me again as you whoop me at ping pong. I wish you could come home. I wish I could see you sitting in your chair working a crossword puzzle or reading your Bible. I wish that we could talk again. I really really do. I wish I could tell you about the truly horrible year that I have just lived, the darkness I have walked in, the sadness in saying good bye to so many friends that were dear to my heart, the fear, the loneliness, the brokeness and yet, in all of that, how God has sustained me. I am probably still riding on the wave of your prayers. I wish I could tell you about the hope that I have for tomorrow. The new friends I have met and grown close to. I wish you could meet them. I wish you could have seen your grand daughter's face last Saturday when her soccer team went undefeated and she got a trophy. She has been carrying it around with her all week. I wish she got to know you like I got to know you. Oh how I knew you mom. Thanks for teaching me how to love, but mostly teaching me how to see into the souls of those around us and to have an overwhelming desire to reach in and bring comfort, even when we can't but to at least just stand with them and let them know that no matter what, you will be there for them. You mom are truly one bad ass woman. And I love you with every ounce of my aching heart.
Billy Hill here, I like it neat
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