It’s a little hard to explain. But here goes.
The tasks that are before me, the ones that take up so many “just a few minutes” in my day-to-day–the ones that are mine because she asked me if I would and I said yes–I do not regret having them to do. I am honored that she asked and humbled by her choice. And determined to do it right and make her proud.
So I do not begrudge the time it takes. Or the energy. Or the emotions.
I just get overwhelmed sometimes. It’s a little bit here and a little more there. Wait on this to happen, but I have to make that happen.
It seems like I might never have a conversation that doesn’t involve numbers or papers or decisions. An irrational thought, but it feels that way nonetheless.
And then today…..in a conversation with a very wise and dear soul, I heard these words that give me hope. I did hear them. But it wasn’t until I was stirring the pot on the stove that I heard them replay in my mind, and they floated down to my heart and started soaking in.
“One day…..one day you will look back on all of this
and it will be behind you.”
Oh, my aching heart! Yes. This. Please.
And tonight, as supper was finishing itself up and I stood lost in thought, I saw that as a possibility for the first time ever. There WILL be a time when I won’t be handling all of these details and bills and making all of these decisions. It. Will. Come. One day we might all get to sit and talk and remember and laugh together, without the decisions that need to be made rushing to the forefront, spoiling the stories that beg to be remembered and told just one more time. We can remember without deciding. Laugh without returning to the somber job of putting a life to rest.
After the sweet, quiet, wise words of this one who has guided me through so much of this journey, I heard another’s words, the words of the one who didn’t want to leave and leave all this to be done, but who had no choice. I heard her wisdom too. In words she said many times over the years.
“This too shall pass, Sugar Tag.”
Oh, Mama. It’s okay that it hasn’t, but thank you, thank you for those words tonight. And thank you for helping me really hear what the other one I love was saying today. I’m hardheaded (yes, I’m admitting it) and I don’t always listen like I should. But tonight, I hear you both. And I give thanks for the hope that opened up and let a little light into my heart.
It gives me just enough strength to think about what comes next. What I need to do to finish this up, so we can move on to the celebrating of your life. Because that is what you deserve. To be celebrated. And loved. Always.
Love you both. Thanks for everything.