Feeling Left Behind

“And we pray that all mothers and children be united in eternal life someday” or something like that, went the prayer at Mass. Like a brick through a window, it hit my heart and “BUT FOR SOME, SOMEDAY IS TOO EFFING FAR AWAY” raged out. And then it ebbed, and my kid did something silly, or maybe it was your baby yelling APPLES at the stained glass again, and my heart rebounded.

And then tonight. The bedtime prayers and the I love yous and the “pray the Lord my soul to take” and the BUT I DIDN’T WANT IT TAKEN.

Passed on. Went home. Died. Lost their battle (the worst euphemism). And then, LEFT BEHIND ARE…

Tonight I am the left behind. Tonight I sob, not because I blame you for leaving – God knows you didn’t want to – but because I am one of the left behind.

We didn’t have tons in common growing up, other than being girls in the midst of brothers. A movie trope would condense it to brains vs beauty but you had brains, and I cleaned up alright on my wedding day (and not bothered since). You were the lead, the ingenue, the center of it. I was the sideshow, the comic relief. You were the Feeler and I was the Thinker, in Jungian terms. You decided you liked eating healthy. I wasn’t a fan of Brussels sprouts, not even when you swore I would love yours but no, they were also terrible to me. But motherhood we ended up sharing. Working mom life, and being a wife, and learning domesticity too – we shared that.

You were the one I could say “I’m becoming my mother!” And you would totally get it. I could tease you that you did something right getting good sleepers, and then convince you it was just luck (and not your superduperamazjng mothering sills) and you could handle it. I could tell you about the sleep deprivation and working combo, and you had advice for me.

And it was all based on the years and years we had in shared history. And I can have mom friends and girls like sisters but none of them are you and that’s why I sob tonight. Because I’m selfish and I’m mourning for ME and what it means to be left behind and how that’s going to shape my motherhood and who I am and I’m mourning the loss of who I might have been if I still had you.

But I don’t have you. I’ve been left behind. And today, while I wish I could say I’m mourning for your boys and your husband, I’m not (I did for a few moments, but this is the honesty talking). I’m selfishly mourning for me and who I won’t be because I won’t have you.

I miss you, damnit. I miss you so much.

One thought on “Feeling Left Behind

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