My heart felt dark today; dark and empty. I don’t like days like this. In fact, I don’t really like weeks like this. The week started out with a little gray spot hiding at the bottom of my heart and now has turned into darkness more than I am able to describe. I didn’t even want to get out of bed. What would I do? Have another day to add to the list of B.S. I am fed up with? I don’t wanna. There I said it. I don’t wanna. I am letting the inner child find its way out.
I remember when I used to do that to my mom. For those of you who don’t know me well, I am NOT a morning person. I repeat: I am NOT a morning person. Growing up, I never had an alarm clock. That was a very odd adjustment I had to make when I moved out on my own when I was 18: setting an alarm clock to wake myself up. Anyways, my mom would come downstairs every morning and sing (or, try to sing, maybe?): “Good morning, good morning, good morning, it’s time to rise and shine. Good morning, good morning, good morning, I hope you’re feeling fine.” As much as I hated getting up so early each day, there was just something about my mom’s smiling voice, singing me awake. I always got up; even through the “Darlene Phase”.
I did the same thing for myself today. I got myself up. I thought about my mom and her little “song” and I got myself up. The day seemed to be filled with issue after issue after issue, and problem after problem. Disappointment regarding a realization that I have been trying to avoid for so long crept into my heart as I finally came to terms with it. It could have been a day that I could have said: “I’m done. I am out of here. I can’t take this anymore” But I didn’t.
Of all of my memories of my mom, I don’t know if I have any of her being disappointed to the point I am. I don’t know that I have any memories of any days that mom just wouldn’t get out of bed. She was always up, making a pot of coffee, and singing us awake. I know my mom had many more reasons to be disappointed or frustrated about things that I do. She had a crazy job. I don’t know how she did it. But she did. And she did it each day with a smile on her face and a song in her voice. She was an amazing person.
This memory gave me hope. I went to sing karaoke. Singing is something I love to do. It always makes me feel better. Whether its karaoke, singing in the shower, or “yell-singing” in my car. It always reconnects myself to what I am missing. Today, I was missing the ability to find hope in my day; like my mom always would. And I found it.
I caught myself putting my mixed CD in the CD player of my car and automatically turning it to number 8 “She’s a Rainbow” by the Rolling Stones. I didn’t even know this song 14 months ago. It did not become a part of my iPod’s play list until my dad picked it to play at my mom’s memorial. Now, for me, it’s everything about my mom put into a three minute song. It’s a three minute way to reconnect to my roots and find my mom’s smiling singing voice that I remember so vividly; it’s my three minute way to remember that there is happiness and hope when it feels like there isn’t. So, from somewhere up there, my mom is smiling down, singing me awake, and for that I am always thankful.
“Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul.”
~ Unknown
No comments:
Post a Comment