This weekend I had a meltdown. A big one. I lost my Mom almost 7 years ago. She wasn't only my Mom... she was my best bud. A lot of people don't even like their parents, I, however adored my mother.
Holidays stir up the weirdest emotions in me. I thought that maybe time would bring some closure, some perspective, some healing. The reality is that some days, time hasn't healed a thing. I'm still motherless, I still miss her and I'm still dealing with ... well, how to deal, really.
Fast forward to Thursday, Turkey Day. I'd been thinking about my mother all day... what would we have been doing.... what would we be cooking... how would my life be different on that day if she weren't dead. It's a slippery slope because no matter how hard you think of where your life would have been, it isn't there. She's still dead, I'm I'm still sad.
I was doing just fine until my Dad mentioned something about her in passing. And I felt it coming, like a wave clobbering me and holding me under, I started to sob. Not just a trail of a tear or sniffle. I'm talking about uncontrollable sobbing that comes with an ugly looking cry face. Yes, I was hysterical.
What's even more surprising about the sobbing was that someone came over to where I was eating dinner (or should I say "sobbing in my dinner), someone I don't know terribly well, and gave me something I haven't experienced in a while... compassion.
Not sympathy, not pity, not that sad pouty lip with your head cocked to the side but pure compassion for the fact that I was having a hard time. She told me to feel whatever I'm feeling that moment. As I understood it: not to apologize for what I was going through that very moment.
I haven't experienced compassion in a while. I've gotten so used to people pitying my situation or telling me it'll be alright that I'd forgotten what it was like to heard that it's ok to be sad, or mad, or hysterical over Thanksgiving dinner because my Mom isn't here to share it with me.
And for that... I'm thankful.