As with any defining moment in your life, you can reflect back on the time known as before, and the time called after. Christmas Eve 2016 is that moment. It now stands still for me. That was before we knew that my mom would not wake up on Christmas morning. Now, I’m inextricably stuck in time, the place between where you dream, and where you wake up. Sudden loss is exactly that. You have no choice. You go back, and forth over every detail of the day before. Even now, I’m combing it for clues, as if I can change the outcome, which I cannot.
Like a combination of that scene in the movie Beaches, where Hillary is frantically looking through old photographs for a picture of her mother’s hands meets Miss Havisham. A warped Christmas Carol, of sorts. I cannot let go. You were just here.
Mad rush. Last minute errands, chores, early school dismissals. You don’t realize the value of the moment, until it’s gone. I’m so glad that we were the ones to pick you up from the train that afternoon. Dennis was late, but didn’t want me to have to go with all three kids to Newark. Now, I’m so happy it was us. Those extra moments, and conversations are everything. I’m so glad you were here with us. It’s so difficult to tolerate the outcome, but to think it could’ve gone a hundred other different ways, is too much.