A close friend of mine commented that I was pretty vulnerable in my previous post about my Mom. So be it. It’s good to be open–and it’s never come easy for me. It’s a mix of reasons. I have Scorpio rising–and Scorpios are all about space and secrets. I’m not one to show grief in public. I do much better with warmth and pure rage.

But going through the process of losing my Mom has made me even more reflective. It’s exactly that: a process. I think somewhere in the recesses of my brain, a small part believes that she’s gone on an extended holiday and is due to return sometime. I see this in the behavior of my Dad, too–who’s desperately trying to stick with his routines so that he doesn’t fall apart. But those routines are empty now.

Again, I wasn’t close to my Mom but not having her around in any form is…odd. I’m so used to saying, Mom and Dad. And once she stepped out, the power dynamics between me and my Dad immediately and irrevocably changed. There was no more triangulation (as one side disappeared). He’s much more openly needy–and I find myself at a loss as to the idea of “being there” for him. This is a man from whom I’ve purposefully kept a distance for my own health and balance. Yet here we are in this same experience (granted, one much more emotionally devastated), picking our way around the potholes.

It’s easy to project what I thought were the losses and joys of my Mom’s life. But I really don’t know. I don’t even completely get her relationship with my Dad, so I’m mainly left with my own ideas. As soon as the real person steps out from this world, idealization steps in. What I wanted for her (and felt as though she didn’t have). Who to blame. Who to admire. Wondering if she’ll decide to return to earth in some form. Wondering if that blue jay hovering overhead has something to say.

It was as if my Mom and I willingly agreed to be strangers in this lifetime so that I could blast out on my own, away from the restrictions of an evangelical family. At times over my adult life, I wished that it were different–but knew that it wouldn’t be, and no amount of “work” would change it. I sometimes wondered what it would be like to have a Mom who I called all the time, chatting about stuff. But that just wasn’t our relationship. It wasn’t about lack of kindness (Mom was one of the most gentle people on the planet) — it was the nature of our dynamic. It worked for both of us –but perhaps we both carried a secret disappointment that we couldn’t be what we wanted from the other.

This isn’t about regret. It’s about learning what it means to choose my true family. It’s about loving myself and trusting the path I’m on. It’s understanding the nature of karmic ties and the decisions we make in this present lifetime which may take us away from our families. Even so, I miss having a mom because I’ve never really had one.