Moments with Mama….

I didn’t think my rushed nerves could take 15 minutes to watch the video below but I’m so glad I did – it’s like it was written for me and Mama, about me and Mama.  https://youtu.be/P1TCnxkvEiQ

There is an indescribable feeling sometimes when I look into Mama’s eyes, really look, up close, like she’s going through a big stack of photos in her mind trying to remember who I am, trying so hard to tell me to wait, she’ll figure it out.  It’s almost fearful watching her try so hard and wondering if she does remember but can’t find a way to tell me, wondering if she’s “inside trying to get out.”

Mama fell yesterday, something we fear and dread and watch for, but it was in the split moment I’d turned my back.  I don’t know why or how she fell but the look on her face as she looked up at me when I got to her, the look when I bent to help her up, was so lost, so afraid, so confused, and the clutch on my arms as I helped to lift her is hard to think about even now, like she didn’t want to let go, didn’t want me to let go.  Within seconds, the fall had vanished from her memory, bittersweet I guess, while it was forever etched in my racing heart.

There are many things I miss about Mama but today all I could think about was being able to call her and say, “How long do I cook so and so?” or “How do I fix so and so?” or “Is this meat in the fridge too old to eat?”  LOL, and hearing her say, “Oh no, don’t eat that!” or “Just throw in a little of this or that, it’ll be good.”   I rarely go in the kitchen and not think about those calls (okay, my family is saying you rarely go in the kitchen at all) but you know what I mean.  Mama never taught me to cook much because she was working full-time and was so tired when it was time to cook, for me to be under her feet was not an option… that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

She’s in there, I know she is, and I know the dark is closing in like a pinhole getting smaller.   I just miss Mama and wish I could shine a light in there and scoop her up and bring her out, hear her laugh one more time, hear her answer her phone one more time, but it won’t happen.  While the light gets smaller, I can only pray it is a sweet soft light that is gentle on her soul and that she’ll feel us loving her and Him holding her hand.

I just miss Mama.