I’m on a rollercoaster ride and I’m not quite sure when it ends.
Or does it?
I eat. I sleep.
Make chicken soup and play board games.
The recipe for the cookies calls for “shortening.”
I don’t exactly know what “shortening” is.
I’ll call Mom.
She’ll tell me what it is and let me know what I can substitute.
Wait a minute.
We buried Mom last week.
No more asking her for advice. No more hearing her ask, “How are you and the Princess today? Doing anything fun?”
I feel like an untethered ship with no rudder, no oars.
The fall days are as gray and as empty as my heart.
My foundation has a crack and I feel weak and unstable.
I need to keep walking. Baby steps. One at a time.
Need to keep connecting.
And listening to stories of a life loved and well lived.
My Mom was my rock and my rock is no longer.
We buried Mom last week and with her my heart.
Love you, Mom.
Love you to the moon and back.
Photo by Tony Detroit, Unsplashed