Not knowing and making the decision anyway!
Last September, after a near two year battle, my dear Mother died. She meant everything to me. She was my best friend, my Mother, my rock, the one who could love me like no other, the one who knew me like no other. She meant more to me than any words could express. I loved and still love her more than I will ever love another human being. She was my soul mate, my world.
Luckily throughout her illness, which we knew was terminal, I kept being honest with my own feelings and outwardly vocalising that my best friend was dying. It was a truth I lived and accepted but despised at the same time. I was then learning the reality of what my “new normal” was going to be. I had no idea how I was going to incorporate this “new normal” and survive the blackness and fog in the immediate weeks after her death. I had to just say to myself that one day at a time will be all that I can do. No plan will suffice as we were all simply going into the unknown, into a foggy sea, hoping that there would be a guiding light to help us get through to the other side.
Four and a half months ago she died. I got to say goodbye, to say all I needed to say, to pour wave upon wave of love onto her soul before it went on its journey. My world changed that day, forever. The body containing her soul died that day. However, her soul lives on, the love I have for her and that we shared, lives on. In the months following her death, I stuck to the goal of just taking it day by day. By the time December came I knew that going home for Christmas, the first Christmas without her, was not going to be something that I could do. No explanation was forthcoming as to why, it was like an inner voice telling me that it would be a bad idea. A bad idea for me, my recovery, my mental health. Logic and others were telling me otherwise but I could not silence this inner sixth sense telling me to simply not go.
So, what to do instead? Under no circumstances was staying at my home an option…..it was imperative that I went somewhere. Then commenced the destination research. The budget was decided, destination “must have” wishes were identified…..I had a plan. Before long, I kept coming back to the same destination, Israel. I had heard great things, friends had been there and really enjoyed it, the weather would be perfect, not a long flight, plenty of hotel options……I was about to click “reserve.” I stopped. My finger was literally hovering over the mouse button, I stopped. Why? Maybe I needed to think over it a while.
The next day…….hovering mouse click time again. I stopped. The day after…..I stopped. Why!!?? Every logical detail was telling me there was no good reason not to go but every inner voice and gut instinct was screaming at me NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I had no idea, none, as to why my “being” so to speak was almost paralysing my mouse finger and preventing me from doing the obvious.
Then it happened. Almost by accident after perusing quickly other alternatives, my eyes fixed on Rome. Rome. The eyes saw and translated to the soul and inner gut instinct and I heard a deafening YES! I had no idea why there was such a strong reaction. I had been to Rome before yet still there was such a pull to this destination and I knew not why.
On the 25th of December I packed my bag and headed to the airport. Rome here I come! Four days in a beautiful hotel near the Spanish Steps. I packed way too much clothes. I did not care. I was going to make sure I looked good because I needed to feel good, needed to not feel so crippled by the longing for my Mother who was no longer on this Earth. I needed all distractions on this, the first Christmas so that I did not fall into the dark abyss of grief, not fall so deep that I could not get out.
I was stunned. The weather in Rome was like Spring. For all of my time there, each day was around 17 degrees C, blue skies, no clouds. HOW lucky am I. However, I had a job to do while I was there. I had promised my family and other relatives that I would light not simply a candle for our Mother in St. Peter’s but also for some other family loved ones that we had lost in the recent past.
So I lit candles in one church, then another and then another. For the first two days no matter where I went, candles were lit, prayers were said. I am not a religious man rather a spiritual one. Therefore in each church I talked to my Mam.
On the second day, I reached St Peter’s. It is an awe inspiring peace of Art, not just simply a very ornate basilica. The artistic detail, the architecture, the grandeur are simply breath taking with their beauty and power to inspire. For all its greatness and size, there are corners of the basilica which are calm, serene and personal. In one such space I sat, talking to my Mother. The tears started to flow, the pain rose from the depths of my soul, the longing for her presence and the anguish of loosing her all came to be recognised through the tears rolling down my cheeks and the aching of my body in grief. Who was watching, I simply did not care. I spoke to my Mother telling her how I missed her, how I did not know how I would cope and live without her, how I did not know if I could ever know what happiness felt like, ever again. In that moment….she responded. All her wisdom and teachings came at once. She reminded me the most that life must continue, that we must endure. To give up on life, to become depressed is not an option which cures or heals, it destroys. To regain happiness we must fight through the grief, step by step, day by day until such a point where we learn how to smile again, to feel happiness once more, to adapt to the “new normal.” She told me that I must not give up, to be determined, that she is now by my side all the time and wherever I roam, that death has not and never can destroy our love. She returned hope, hope for my future.
In that single moment I felt the suffocating weight of grief lift from my shoulders. I still grieve but no longer am I incapacitated by it. She healed me. She had been the secret guide in my destination decision. This was why I had to come to Rome.