My Doctor is Killing Me: Tears and Empathy

My Doctor is Killing Me: Tears and Empathy

Goodbye Momma

Goodbye Momma

I thought of momma today. And many others I have seen and met over the years. Some very good, some very bad. Some mothers are very kind and loving, some full of hate and pain, some are there as a chair is "there", some not there at all. I know of someone whose mother put on a nice clean dress, went onto the front porch, lay down and blew her brains out. I was very fortunate. Mine was the very kind and loving sort. Momma didn't live in this millennium. She expired in 1999. If there is anything left of her at all is is a few bones in a cemetery somewhere. I'm not certain exactly where because I was not there. I said my goodbye to momma in the funeral home, tried to burn her features into my mind, touched her head with the wispy white hair and felt only death. Stiffness. Immobility. Permanence. I cried out a large percentage of my body's water content, and grieved more than I thought it was possible to grieve.

I could not go to her funeral. I could not risk losing control of myself and possibly doing bad things. Because I've known many, many Southern country funerals. I know the lies they tell; "she's gone home", "she's in a better place", "we'll see her again"... ad nauseum. Lies, delusions, illusions, denial... from a people too fragile apparently to grasp or know reality. I did not want to risk my life and theirs. My strong instinct is to lash out against lies and deception. Preachers preach lies like "she's in a better place", as though she has taken a bus to Atlanta, and "we'll see her again" as though we only have to wait a while to buy our own ticket. Momma is not in a better place, she has not "gone on". She is just one of the estimated 100 billion or so humans who once existed and are no more. Opinion, belief, desire, hope and faith are, at best, utterly irrelevant to that fact. It is as much fact as it is fact that you are reading these words.

I thought of momma today. I felt the loss, the lump in my throat, the sting in my eyes. Momma does not live or exist in my memories. My memories exist. Momma does not exist and will never exist in a billion trillion years. I listened to several of the old Gospel songs, funeral songs, like Where the Soul of Man Never Dies, Wayfaring Stranger, I'll Fly Away, Will the Circle be Unbroken, Precious Memories.... my tears flowed anew. I wept for my loss, wept for the loss of so very many others. I wept for momma (and paw) who was and is not, for my children who never were, and for my own end. I wept for the ignorance and weakness of my species.

I thought of momma today.

Note to self: put toilet paper on shopping list.

TRB

I'm 51

Yeah, I'm really amazed sometimes at how long it is between visits here> I guess sometimes I really want readers and so I blog at Myspace. the only place where I do have a few somewhat regular readers. Other times, I don't care so much... like now. When I'm feeling not up to par. Nothing especially wrong, I just don't feel right... like something is missing somehow, though I don't know what. I suppose part of it is depression. Not like I used to have, but I guess "mild" depressions, mostly due to not being able to do things like go tot the Atheist Convention in Atlanta... because of lack of money. I'd really hoped to meet Richard Dawkins. Hang on, I gotta check out what the hell is this "monetize" button I see on here... never saw that before.