Dead is Dead

I have experienced death up close, personally. Not personally in the sense of some white light beckoning me or my spirit floating above my body only to be shocked back via some electric current. I’ve experienced death as a bystander. In reality, the bystander side seems like it’s probably worse. We’re left here to deal with death and its ugliness.

I literally watched my mother die. I curled my body into hers as she lay dying and watched her breathing go from rapid and labored to slow and infrequent and then just stop. People have expressed sadness at not being there when a loved one passed but I was there and there was nothing beautiful or peaceful about it. She didn’t look at peace. She didn’t look asleep. She just looked dead. And I felt dead. If I knew...if I felt she was ‘there’ before it happened...if I felt maybe she could hear what my brother and I were saying to her I might feel some sense of relief but I think she was gone already. Her body focused solely on her most important organs, not interested in anything other than basic survival and when that became too much, she just stopped being. It didn’t provide me with any consolation prize...any relief. Dead is dead.

I have always believed in an afterlife and I still do. I believe there is a God and my God has a Son who died for me and everyone else who has accepted him into their lives. This isn’t a question for me. It just is. Maybe I don’t always get what it means but it’s sort of like taxes. It is what it is and I accept it. I have also always believed that those who have died can somehow still communicate, be near or keep tabs on their loved ones still here. I’ve had experiences that have led me to believe this to be true. I never questioned it. Again, it’s one of those things that just is.

My mother and I often talked of her passing. I could talk easily of it because it wasn’t real. Once it became real, just thinking the words choked me up so saying them was impossible. But we had an agreement. She promised she would let me know she’s okay and I felt it was a sure thing, that once she was gone she’d find a way uniquely her own, to tell me she made it, was safe, happy, healthy or whatever and I’d know. I’d know she was where she was supposed to be.

It’s been a month now and I’m still waiting. I don’t question where she is. Her heart was golden and I believe she deserves Heaven and its glory and I’m sure she’s there living it up with those she loves who left before her. That isn’t my concern. What’s so upsetting to me is that I haven’t had my sign. Yes, shortly after she died I saw a lovely heart cloud pass over me but really, a cloud can be shaped like anything and that just wasn’t obvious enough for me. I was hoping for something more substantial. Something personal and something uniquely mom. I thought I’d dream of her. Nada. I got nothing. No dreams. No cold air on the back of my neck. No doors opening or pictures moving. No scent of her. Nothing. Dead is dead.

My whole belief system is shaken and stirred. What if she can’t contact me? What if that concept is just a pile of crap thrown upon us grievers to make us feel better? I’m beginning to wonder. Let’s face the facts. If you are a Christian and believe in Heaven and that it is truly what we’re taught, then truthfully, why would anyone in their right minds want to come back and even peek into the reality of earth? Seriously. Yes, they care for us and they love us but from what I understand once they’re gone they don’t have any care for earthly matters. And I’m starting to think that includes us. Not that we’re not still loved but that they see things differently and understand what we cannot possibly understand so they move on and know that eventually we will too, or not.

I hate that.

For me that means my mother is gone. She’s not ‘still with me’. She’s not ‘watching over me’. She’s just gone. Dead is dead. This theory is beginning to take shape in my heart because I don’t feel her. I don’t feel her around me. I don’t feel her inside me. I don’t feel like she’s still here, in my heart. I just feel like she’s dead. I feel this empty space deep within my soul and there’s no spirit floating around waiting for the right time to enter and fill me with peace.

Some people say I’m too involved in my grief to feel her. That I will, once I’m adjusted. Really? Listen people, the thing about death that really sucks is that life goes on. Every day happens whether you want it to or not. Whether I feel like getting up and facing the day, it’s there and I can’t just sit and dwell on the fact that my mother is gone. It is what it is and while I’m sad and I miss her, I’m really just pissed off. And not at the fact that she died. I’m pissed off because I thought I’d still feel her...that she’d ‘always be with me’ even though she was gone. I don’t. Dead is dead.

Maybe eventually I’ll feel differently about it. Maybe I’m in the middle of some step of the grieving process and tomorrow I’ll progress to the next step. Who knows? I’m not reading up on it. I don’t want to plan out my grieving. It is what it is and I just have to work with what I’ve got which sadly, right now, is nothing.

I know I’ll work through this and for the most part, I’ve come to accept the fact that my mother died and isn’t here. I still talk to her because on the off chance that she can hear me, I don’t want the backlash when I see her again because I didn’t talk to her. Heaven may be a wonderful place but God has no power over a pissed off mother. That’s one thing I’m sure of.