I only want to know ...

I have had an emotionally difficult week. I've fallen through whatever protective cloud I've been living in the last few weeks, and I'm back to the reality of sadness. I don't know, did I go through denial again? Did "Moving Day" snap me out of it?

I realized while running the other day that the way I miss my parents is like when I was a kid, and I went away to basketball camp, or to stay with my Mama Lo and PaPa for a week — and even when I was in college and lived in Lubbock for a couple of years.  I would miss my parents terribly, and if I allowed myself to focus on missing them, I would feel horribly sad and homesick. But then I would remind myself that it's only temporary, and I would see them again soon. Much like putting a bandaid on a strawberry burn, I would be all better for a while.

Back then, I could call them, or write them when I missed them. (Back in the Mama Lo and PaPa days, we wrote real, honest-to-goodness, handwritten and mailed letters!!) And, then, I always knew the end date. I had a definitive light at the end of my homesick tunnel.

I'm lost knowing I may not see my parents again for years and years and years. I'm going to feel this void indefinitely. When I have been feeling good about things, I've been able to remind myself I will see them again, and they're all good and happy and all that wonderful stuff. But when I am down, as I have been since Moving Day, I am focused on the forever part of what I don't know.

So in this week of reflection, I've been able to finally pull together in my mind all the things that have randomly floated around like scraps of notepaper since Mom and Dad died. I need — OK, maybe it's more of a want — to know some things to get me through this awfulness.

I want to know what my mother was thinking all those sad, sick months. I want to know how she perceives it all now, from the other side — from a healthy side. I want to know what she was trying to tell us all those times she struggled to communicate. I want to know she understands we did the best we could to take care of her, that we were heartbroken for her condition and her personal suffering.

I want to know whether my mom felt a reconnection with me at the end. Did she know how special that time was to me, even though the circumstance was sad, unfortunate and painful?

I want to see my mom happy, enjoying all the little things she loved. I want her to acknowledge that I recognize I share many of the same enjoyments she did — especially collecting little treasures, piddling in domestic activities, learning new things and taking care of kitties. I recognize we truly weren't that different. Fall is my favorite, too, Mom.

I want to know how my mother felt when she reached heaven and reunited with all three parents. How did she feel about what she learned? How was it to meet the baby?

Does my mother understand how difficult it feels to figure out what to do with all the things she cherished? Is she ok with the decisions we are making?

Does my mother realize how badly I want to know everything she was thinking and feeling during her life? I look at her pictures, and I think, "What was that little girl like?" or "What were you thinking that moment in time?" Mom, I wish you had shared more of your thoughts and feelings with us — more of what you were like growing up.

And, Dad. I wonder the same things about him, yet what he must have been like in his younger days is not as much of a mystery to me — I think because he and I were alike in so many ways and because we've discussed a shared experience many times.

Does my dad now see the story of my life? And does he now have the whole picture of what he meant to other people? He admitted when he was dying and everyone was reaching out that he couldn't wrap his head around it all.

I want to ask Dad if I did ok at the end. Does he know I did my best? Kim took her much needed opportunity to share special times with him at the end; did I waste mine?

Dad, could you hear us talking at the end? What did you think? Did you laugh at us? Did you feel badly for us? Were you trying to tell us everything is ok? What about Kim on your final day with us, when you held her hand?

Do my parents know how empty life feels right now, in spite of all the blessings I have? Do they know how guilty I feel for enjoying myself sometimes? Do they know I feel guilty enjoying their things, and the gifts they left behind?

Do my parents know how blessed I feel that they were my parents, and that I am so grateful, as Winnie the Pooh said, to have loved something (them) so much as to feel such a great loss?

I would really, really appreciate that visit.