Where I'm at

 They have all been gone for over a month now. The complication of that experience melds and molds into the fucked up headspace I am in now. Who am I now that they're gone? Roles continue, titles remain. I am "Mom" for life. "Wife" for life. Period. These titles once obtained never die, even if the roles alter, flow, and change.

I went in for my routine physical like I do every year. Labs, shots, etc. Except this time, some things came back as "abnormal". M and I were at a restaurant when my phone pinged with "You have new lab results". Indian food. I can still see it as the emotions hit me... am I dying? Over a curry. The answer to that question is always "Yes." I am dying. So are you. We all are. But it also applies in my current state of life. My role as "Mom" is dying. It's no longer on life support; it's gone. Like a puff of smoke, or the blink of an eye. The hell of the fight that took so much out of me in their early years, in their sick years... All of it walks out of your door one day and is over. So who the fuck am I now that they're gone?

My doctor contacted me somewhat quickly because these labs were a hot mess. Let's take them again. Very odd for you. Okay, doc. Check. I waited the assigned two weeks and went and took them again. Worse. More labs added to try to make it make sense. My doctor said, "These labs don't make sense" and asked me follow up questions. More labs ensued. We are now at the ultrasound phase of this journey that I genuinely believe will end in, "Let's see how things go." America, I don't think my death is pending or looming in the shadows beyond the usual way that I see death as always present, always lurking.'

We are finite beings. Everything that pertains to life is intended to end: seasons, moments, exhaustion, elation, togetherness, loneliness... all of it ends at one point. But Love is forever. So I Love even when I feel sick. I Love when no one calls. I Love when one calls too much. I Love when I feel like crying, or breaking, or fleeing. I Love because it lasts forever. I Love when I am too tired to stand and my legs give out. I Love when tears overwhelm me because my body is doing shit that I don't know I am ready for it to do. I Love, and apologize, when I can't remember anything, because that's a piece of the pie. I hope that my tombstone says, "Love so fucking much. THAT is heaven on earth." Along with the usual request of the added statement, "I told you elevators were dangerous!"

I miss what was. I miss the physical presence of my children. I miss the laughter, the intellectual discussions, the solving of the world's problems, fighting fights together. Whatever is happening to me, M and I are walking it together. He is, and has always been, the love of my life. But I miss them. I miss them sitting here with me when I cry because the human side of me gets randomly scared. I miss the people that see through my smile and grasp the nervousness underneath. I miss the people who grasp that my being scared is a relief to them, and they know why. 

America, some times life is a hot mess.