Monday, May 23, 2011


How do you react when the man who is responsible for the death of the most important person in your life stands before you?
The man who is responsible for the pain that seems like it will never end.
The image in your mind that doesn’t seem to fade away of your own flesh and blood, the person who brought you into the world, now has a crimsoned stained white sheet covering a nude body that has assumed room temperature.
The emotions felt and seen by all that are in disbelief that something that was so routine, that statistically is unfathomable, went entirely wrong.
What do you do?
How do you react when the man that has stolen the beat from your heart and the warmth from your breath stands in front of you?
It was him that caused you to…
Call all of her friends and the rest of the family repeating…
She’s gone…She’s gone
To have to say the word that you never wanted to say to her electric, mortgage, and telephone companies
The word that chokes up in your throat and makes you skip a breath
Constructing obituary paragraphs, funeral arrangements that you never thought you would have to do this early, and trying to find the perfect picture that encompasses the spirit of your mother so that everyone knows how much she meant to you and how she helped to make the world a more pleasant place.
What do you say to the man that has signed his name on the death certificate underneath the blank entitled cause of death?
He is the individual that has led you to embark upon staring at pictures of those happy moments in child and adulthood.
Forced to save the last voice mail message she ever sent to you.
Imagining and wondering if you can still recognize her voice if she were to call out your name from her heavenly home.
What do you say to the person that has now allowed you only to dream dreams when your body and mind are finally able to sleep?
Understanding that a nightmare is also dream as you slumber in a bed littered with surgical documentation and various depositions as to what the hell went wrong!
The man that’s standing in plain view, not event a foot away from you, is the cause of your therapy sessions, your thoughts of ending it all.
Nights to mornings to days to afternoons of trying not to cry and trying not to be angry, and sometimes wanting to lash out at everything in the world…
Just for an opportunity to touch her hand or to hold her and let her know how proud you are of her as your mother and how much of a great mother she was.
Your thoughts will always dwell on what you were taught and that her legacy will never be tarnished or shamed!
To apologize for past and future mistakes and to get her blessing for the feats you will accomplish that she won’t ever see in person.
This man who now sits in front of you, and smiles in your face as you look him in his eyes, is the reason why you truly feel alone in the world.
But you remember what you were told
What you read
That God will never leave you nor forsake you.
So then you desperately ask God…
Didn’t you know when, where, and how your Son would die?
If I would have known what you knew God…
Maybe I could have prepared?
Maybe I could have made all of the arrangements both mentally and physically?
Or maybe I would still feel alone!
How do you hold back all sense, right, and rage when the man that treated your mother like she was a mass of nothingness can actually look you in the eye?
The man that she trusted with her life…
The thoughts and questions that run amok in your head
Where is your shame sir?
Sir, where is your regret?
Where the hell is your remorse?
Did I bury all of that with my mother as well?
How do you react?
What do you do?
I gave that man the gift that I never thought I would ever give another human being whose mistake and gross misjudgment will affect me for the rest of my life.
I stuck out my hand, smiled, and I said…
I forgive you!

I Love You, But God Loves You More!

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