Now although I was very responsible and acted fairly grown up for my age (remember I had been seeing my Mom go through hell, be sick, taken her to chemos, etc…since I was 14) I was not in the grown up stage of mind thinking that it was a possibility that my Mom could actually die. I was, in fact, very naïve, super optimistic and always looking through rose colored glasses so to speak. I was this way until right before she died. As a perfect example: I wasn’t the type to talk back to my Dad and during those last few days of my Mom’s life, I remember him nicely trying to tell me I might want to start preparing myself. And I raised my voice a bit at him and said “No, Dad, no. Mom is not going to die.” I was in denial. I was only 18 years old and how else could I think? So these unhappy thoughts crossing my mind were unusual and scary and made me feel like a bad person for even letting them slither their darkness through my mind.
Several months after letting that song leave a permanent wound in my heart, those dark thoughts became reality. Ever since, when I hear “One Sweet Day” I tear up and cry, sometimes even bawl if I’m alone. It reminds me of how much I truly miss Mom and how I was eating dinner with her when I heard this song and had thoughts of “what if”. I think about how much I wish I could see her smile again (in real life, not just a picture) and how I hope she is proud of me and is the one in heaven with the biggest smile. [She told me at my high school graduation that she would be easy to spot because she would be the one with the biggest smile. :)] However, the other day in the car when the song came on…I didn’t cry. I didn’t even tear up or feel those awful feelings of loneliness and aches in my heart. When I realized what was, or I guess wasn’t happening, I felt a sense of peace. It was kind of surreal. I’m not saying that I expect to never again cry during this song. I’m just saying that it was comforting and maybe the wound in my heart has actually healed itself a tiny bit knowing I am doing everything in my power to avoid the same demise as my Mother. For me, it was a triumph, no matter how trivial.
Until next time, here’s to finding peace, triumphs and silicone.