I love talking about my mom. I could talk about her all day everyday. I keep it in because I don't want to make people uncomfortable. I don't want to bore them. I don't want to be a downer. There are a lot of reasons I don't talk about her. But, I love it. I love listening to friends advice. I love when a stranger says something sweet. I love words of encouragement. I have seen more love and good in the 6 months since my mom took her life than I have my 37 years. I'm sure it has always been there, I just wasn't looking.
Three months after my mom passed away I had something amazing happen. I met a wonderful lady, Kandy. She lost her mother to addiction three months before I lost my mama. We had lunch together for the second time yesterday. She might be my favorite person, other than my brother, to talk about my mom with. She gets it. Like, she really gets it. I love to hear her talk about her mother. She has guilt, questions and heartache. She also laughs at things that most people would find inappropriate. I love that. I laugh/laughed at things my poor mama did often. They really weren't funny. Sometimes you just have to laugh, I get it. She said something to me yesterday that I can't stop thinking about. She told me that Satan is working his way into our heads. He is enjoying watching us suffer with self-doubt and guilt. I needed to hear that... from her. Because she gets it.
You see, I dropped the ball. A few months before my mama took her life, I got real with her. I was honest and told her things she needed to her. It made her mad and we ended up yelling at each other. She told me I was judging her. She told me she felt like my love for her was conditional. She told me she loved me unconditionally. She also told me she would take a bullet for me. I can still hear her saying those words. I now know it was more difficult for her to not take a bullet for me. I told her if she would really take a bullet for me then she would go to treatment for me. She hung up. A few days later she called me back and agreed to go. She promised she would go as soon as her foot healed. Well, her foot healed and I didn't push it. I didn't feel like fighting. I knew it would take every ounce of energy I had, emotionally and physically. I just dropped it. I took the selfish and easy path. That haunts me.
My brain tells me it wouldn't have made a difference. She had gone to treatment a dozen times. She has had more opportunities than any other addict I know. My heart tells me things would have been different. Why did I quit on her? What if it would have worked this time? What if I would have pushed her? Satan is loving this. That makes me mad. I know God doesn't want me doing this. I know my mama would set me straight if she could. I am going to think about the show I am giving Satan every time the guilt starts sneaking in. I am not going to make his evil heart happy.
I am going to do something good with this. I don't know what, just yet. I will not let my mama's death be in vain. Something wonderful is going to come from this. Kandy feels the same way. We both shared a few of our ideas with each other. I believe in us. We have both had signs that our mom's are with us. I know they are. We are going to make them proud. I am going to give my mama a show that makes her sweet heart happy. Satan can suck it.
