8 Months' Anniversary

I got an email asking how I'm doing ...

Well ... I think on the whole by God's Grace I'm getting a bit better but days remain very dark for me since Momma's death.

I've been told that for losses like this the first year afterward is mostly a matter of sheer emotional survival so by that standard I guess things are unfolding in a "normal" manner. Today is the 8 month anniversary of her funeral. And really the sheer magnitude of the loss has been a paradoxical blessing. Just as all human loss has something of Good Friday in it, and all days have something of Holy Saturday in them, I guess most of my days are Holy Saturday, and that is of course no small blessing.

I visit Momma's grave in the morning and cry and pray Matins for the day, and then Lauds from the Office for the Dead. I talk with Jesus and His Blessed Mother and St Monica and St Augustine and St John of the Cross. They hold me in their arms when it's more than I can bear, and they weep with me as I weep. Then I shake my head and thank God for my mother, and then God binds up my wounds a bit so I can trudge through my day. Then I visit her in the evening and cry and pray Vespers from the Office for the Dead. All in all I have nothing to complain about. But I do and when I do God just holds me in His Arms and rocks me back and forth with me till like a little child I stop wailing and complaining and sobbing. Then I fall asleep on His Lap and He holds me close as I slumber. Till the next day when I awake. And then it begins again.

Of course this is all there in the Psalms and Job and Ecclesiastes and Augustine and more. I feel like I'm following despite myself in the footsteps of holy men and women who have grieved and Followed in the Footsteps of Him Who takes upon Himself All Grief, Who wept at the Tomb of Lazarus, Who Knows and Feels the losses of each and every one of us far more deeply than even we can ever know and feel.

Of course I hope in the Resurrection to see my dear mother again. In the meantime ... well, again, they say that for the first year it's just a matter of trying to survive in Christ one day at a time, and that does seem to keep my long days rather full, if that's the word. Hey, I've suffered nothing like the losses of good Father Job, and if he can sit in dust and ashes for a few days and nights, and survive by God's grace, I figure I can too, God willing, one day at a time.

Momma I miss you so very very very much

O Jesus please please please ... take good care of my good Momma

I love you Momma

I love you Jesus

Thank you ... Oh thank you so much

Charles Delacroix
Last of my line in one way
Just another bozo on the bus in another way
Son of Adam and Eve
Son of my dear Momma
on this 6th Sunday in Eastertide