It’s 3AM. I should be sleeping. I’m not. This will not be a long post but I needed to get this out.
I have so much on my mind lately, stress is becoming unshakable companion. The bills are due, I need a second job – again – while still adjusting to seeing my son on a less frequent basis than I used to since last December. Not to mention the notion of how badly I should and want to go to culinary school and finally make something of my life worth more than surviving month to month.
I joke around sometimes, OK all the time, that I use the Force to keep my stress at bay. Yeah, I’m that kind of geek – but I realized something tonight as I was tossing and turning: My mom was a Jedi master. She was the one who prepared me for dealing with being a grown-up at an early age. She taught me to be independant and to do what I have to do to survive. She was the inspiration for many of the things I have accomplished in my life like captaining a Relay For Life team and following my heart, wherever it may lead.
Mom was my Yoda. Or better yet, the Obi-Wan to my Anakin as she didn’t always agree with some of my choices. Mom worked a lot when I was young. I learned to use my resources and figure things out on my own. I learned to cook because she worked. I got a head start in childcare because of my brother and sister. I learned to take responsibility for my actions because of her integrity. And I learned to stop dwelling on things I can’t change and fix the ones that I can because of her determination.
We are coming up on 2 years that Mom’s been gone but you know what – she’s still here. I feel her presence.
Forgive me if I’ve told this story before. I’m half asleep.
The afternoon of her funeral I took a walk out to the woods behind her house and cried – similar to the tears that are welling now just thinking about it. I cried and felt anger. Anger toward God. Toward the imbalance of life. Even toward myself for not spending as much time as I could with her when I had the chance. I was just angry. This part may make some of you question the microscopic bit of credibility I have but she was there with me in the woods. I felt her there. I felt her hug me. After a few minutes, I stopped crying, I dusted my pants off from kneeling in the dirt and I walked back to the house to be with my brother and sister. Sure, I was sad. I was devastated but I knew she wouldn’t want me to focus on what I’d lost. She’d tell me to “Stop it, Arron. There’s nothing you can do about it so move on.” and she would be right.
I’ll never forget the lessons she taught me. Whether intentional or as a side effect, she prepared me better for life than anyone could. May the Force be with her.