Death is a matter of life

It's hard to believe that just one week ago I was wearing my black cherry boots and prepping my sister for her inaugural visit to Remington's for linedancing lessons.

And then there was a phone call that sent everything spinning in an endless whirl of tears, friends, family, cards, flowers, condolences, food, more food, and much more food.

I knew something was wrong when I called my mom's cell phone back after a missed call- and a man answered the phone.

15 minutes later I was sitting silently on my couch, repeating over and over in my mind "I can't do this ... I can't do this" while my sister's bright blue eyeliner was running down her face like hot fudge on a sundae.

We rode to the airport, seemingly typical DC-ites with our cell phones burning minutes and our responses to the cab driver curt and emotionless. We sailed to Dulles, the sun serenely setting on what shall always be remembered as the day I unexpectedly lost my mother to death- August 20th, 2008.

Within hours I stood collapsed in my father's arms ... the kind of hug where you become weightless and immediately fatigued ... while he stood and stared straightforward with the most eerily vacant expression on his face.

Weightless is probably the best adjective to describe the past week. I feel like I've been coasting directionless out in space, while the "should-s" and "have to-s" and "supposed to-s" have been suspended around me just out of reach ... mindless and delicately spiraling around my body- perfectly in sight, and absolutely nothing I can do to manipulate them. I don't have to do anything. I'm not supposed to be anything.

But for some reason I feel like I do. I have to be strong, organized, attentive to life insurance policies and bills due and clothing that needs to be donated and lunch boxes that remain unpacked and jewelry that stays untouched and photos that need to be sorted and- a life that needs to be lamented.

My family has been inundated by a flood of support via letters, cards, emails, messages, flowers, and food; welcome distractions, and luxurious burdens.

And the grieving is so completely unique to everyone who expresses it. My father has lost 6 pounds in as many days, and I have probably gained just as much or more. My father cries more in the morning, my sister and I more at night.

We are paradoxically helped and helpless- a wealth of support from the richness of ample friends and family, but a cold silence continues to fall upon the house once the pomp and circumstance of grieving has marched itself out the door. Thankful to all those who have shouldered the boulder that is our loss, our emotions are left to clean up the pieces of broken rock that was the cornerstone of our family- my dear sweet mother, rest and bless her soul.

There's so much more to say. I guess that will come in time.

A heartfelt thanks to all of my friends and family who have blossomed in love and support during a time where sunlight is still struggling to find its way through the overcast sky of life's circumstances. You cannot know how much it means to me.

Morale of the story- life matters.