Awakening

Several years ago my book club and I read The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. Such a crazy good book with many dark and captivating twists and turns. The first comes early in the story when we learn that the main character, Margaret, was once a conjoined twin. After surgery to separate her from her sister, her twin died and their mother sunk into a deep deep depression that left her permanently bedridden.

Of all the goodness this book had to offer, this detail of the overwrought and disabled mom prompted the most heated discussion among my group. Most were in agreement -- she was a terrible terrible mother. How could she abandon her surviving child and indulge a depression over the loss of another?

As I recall, I was the lone holdout defending that woman. How can we judge? Has any of us ever lost a child? Maybe a mother could despair so deeply over the loss of one, that love for the other is not enough to draw her out. None of us can possibly say what that might be like!

Fast forward several years, and here I was, in that mother’s place, reeling from the death of a child.  Much like Margaret's mother, I had no intention of embracing a world that didn’t include my son. After being tossed from the airplane that was taking me in the direction of everything I’d dreamed for myself and my family, I’d landed into a dark and dense space. So dark was it there that I had no concept of east or west, day or night, hot or cold. Even up or down was indiscernible and vertigo toppled me if I attempted to move. My sense of self and world order were shattered. I had arrived in the jungle of despair and I was unable to gain any perspective within it. And frankly, I didn’t want to.

Lying in the depths of this lonely place, unable to move, there was nothing left to do but think. My mind raced and raged against all of it.

I will not embrace this.

I will not live wholly and fully here.

I will not love as deeply,

give as completely,

laugh as heartily.

I will not.

            

My son is gone. Our world is shattered. I reject it all.

Not that I was thinking of it then, but in these circumstances I could completely relate to Margaret’s forlorn mother. I was right there with her ready to indulge that very same urge to shut down and shut out this new world. And I did for a time.

This went on for weeks. I could not be convinced that there was any reason to engage in any activity in this horrible, dark and terrifying jungle into which I’d been unceremoniously dumped.

Then a simple thought popped into my brain that interrupted my stint at self-pity.

I’m still a mom.

This notion was so obvious, but one that had completely escaped me. And my nonchalant reaction was proof.

Oh yeah.

Like a kid in a candy store who just remembered that he does have a quarter in his back pocket. It was that kind of “oh yeeeaaaah.”

A more urgent realization quickly followed:

My girls need me.

This reminder tweaked my maternal instinct, which had fallen into some sort of coma since my crash into the jungle. That instinct reawakened and slowly rose up against the forces of self-indulgence that had gripped me. It regained ground within my mind. It seized that simple idea – my girls need me – and transformed it into an urgent imperative: My Girls Need Me!

But could I do it? Could I face this new reality for their sake? And, more importantly, would I?

I wonder if Margaret’s mom ever experienced a pivotal moment like that. Maybe her brain could never summon the resources to deliver such a clear message. I still believe that she could have been so distraught that that thought, or any good, healthy inkling, might never have come to her. I lived that for a time. I understand how death can so confuse and traumatize the living.

But the thought had come to my mind and now I had a choice. I could continue to refuse to be a part of this new world or I could get up and find a way to be there – no matter how horrible and undesirable there was – for my girls.

I chose to get up for my girls and in my next post I’ll share what finally convinced me that that’s what I needed to do…because it was not as simple as you might think. Until then,

Go Forth in Love + Remember Jay