I found myself consuming large quantities of food mindlessly yesterday. That's code for: emotional eating.
Pancakes in the morning. Bites of pizza in the mid afternoon. A half eaten brownie from one of the girls, who left it unattended. Bites from Charlie's P B and J sandwich. Stealing M and M's from the Redhead's Potty Reward Jar on top of the fridge. Charlotte gets one M and M for pee, three for poop and pee. I didn't even take them after I used the toilet. I cheated. I ate them anyway. All. Day. Long.
Yep, here's one thing for sure: I am a Weight Watchers Leader, but I am surely not "fixed". In fact, I feel like my name tag should read, Michelle Walsh lost 90 lbs in 2003, "Leader" in air quotes.
Who am I leading exactly? A lot of times I would love to start my meetings with, "Who wants to go eat Apple Fritters? Who's with me? Good! Screw this...let's go!"
I have learned that I am (gasp), an emotional eater. So, maybe yesterday doesn't seem like such a big deal to most folks, who don't battle their weight. I've heard of people like you...curse you!
But to me, it was a distinct sign that something else was going on. I stopped myself around 5 pm that evening, when I was out of points for the day, and started divvying into next week's allotment, when I had an a-ha moment.
Mother's Day is Sunday. And I'm anticipating that first of many holidays without my sweet Foxy Mama. And I'm eating everything that is not nailed down because...well, apple fritters are the answer sometimes.
No, not really.
Six weeks ago my Mama went Home. And I can assure you she is sitting at the table with all of her friends and family that have gone before her, and they are having an Italian pasta extravaganza! And Jesus is pouring the wine. And Foxy is enjoying herself, free from pain, and the memories of her frail and weakening body confined to a hospital bed for the last 4 months of her life, are history.
Because in Heaven, I believe time doesn't exist.
The real work is for us to do down here, where my Dad, brother, their wives, and our children attempt to go on with joyful hearts.
And I have found that I am doing a fairly okay job in the day to day: working out, "leading" at Weight Watchers, being a Mama who pulls their kid early on a Friday to go to the beach, keeping up with laundry (although Emma was out of clean underwear yesterday), fixing dinner, and so on.
However, sometimes, a wave of grief will come out of nowhere, and takes my very breath away.
Here is what I know. My Mom has visited us. She has come. And however, you choose to believe in the afterlife, this gives me comfort.
In fact, my brothers and I joke around, by saying, "The fox is not in the box." Meaning, Foxy is not where we laid her to rest.
The Saturday before Foxy passed away, the amazing, gentle and kind hearted Hospice Nurse, Nancy, was cleaning my Mom in her room. When she looked up, there was a grey fox perched on the garbage cans right outside the window. Startled and thinking, it was my mom, in spirit form, Nancy quickly took Mom's pulse, but found Mama was still with us. Shortly after that initial fox sighting, my Mom "came to", and while Dad, Paul and Steph, Matt and Samantha, were gathered at her bedside, expressed, ever so faintly, "I love you."
The morning that my Mom passed, my brother Matt, stood looking out the back sliders into the backyard, delivering the news to neighbors of her death, on the phone. A hummingbird flew right up to the glass, hovered for what seemed an eternity, but was a few seconds, and then darted off. When Dad had asked Mom what to look for to make sure she crossed over, she answered, "Hummingbirds."
The Sunday after my Mama passed away, that grey fox made another appearance in my parent's backyard. In fact, it basked in the sun, relaxing in front a plant that Dad and Paul had just planted in my Mom's honor, and an angel statue that she absolutely loved. That crafty fox, sat, and waited patiently, while my cousin Andria, snapped a picture. That picture was put front and center, in Foxy's program. And I don't know about you, but that story gives me immeasurable comfort.
About a week ago, Abigail and Isabella were quizzing their little sister, Charlie, "What's your name? Where do you live? What's your phone number?" Then they asked, "When is your birthday?" Charlotte knows her birthday is October 20th. She has told more people than I can count, that her birthday is October 20th.
Do you know what she said? August 14th. That is my MOM'S birthday. And I can assure you, she did not know that. I know that message was meant for me, as I sat there, dumbfounded at the kitchen table. I even asked Tom that night, "Babe, what is your take on that?"
Clear and concise, he answered, "Honey, there are too many months and days in the year, to get that date." And he's right.
Six weeks she has been gone, and yet, it is more clear to me than ever, she is actually walking right beside us.
Three days ago, just happened to be "one of those days", when I was missing my Mama. Crazy as it may seem, I talk to her while I am driving sometimes. "I miss you, Mom," I had told her that morning, as I drove to work to "lead" a meeting.
That night, I collapsed into bed, Foxy heavy on my heart and mind. No longer had I pulled the sheets up over my shoulders, than Tom began calling down the hallway, where all the girls had gathered,"Michelle, I think you should come here. I think your Mom may be visiting."
I ambled my way to the living room. Now, there is one corner of the sectional, where Foxy always sat comfortably. And in that very same corner, the lamp was turning on, and off. On and off. On and off. By itself for at least 2 minutes.
Hmmm. Me thinks the Fox is not in the box.
And so I will leave you with a piece of my euolgy from Foxy's Mass, which I believe expresses my heart, at this tender and emotional first Mother's Day without her:
"When my initial 3-4 day visits would come to an end, Mom was almost commanding me out the door...'Michelle, you've got to go now. The girls need you. Tom needs you. GO!!'
And yet, my final visits ended much differently...with free flowing tears, tender cheek to cheek smooches, and Mom whispering, 'I love you so much. I miss you already.'
These tender moments of nothingness and everything. These tiny moments will forever be ingrained in my memory...they are small, and simple, and humble. How incredibly blessed am I? This courageous woman brought me into the world, and I was lucky enough to witness her leaving it.
Foxy, thank you for being my Mom. Thank you for loving me, even when I was lost and broken, and wasn't sure I would find my way. You have changed me forever for the better. I love you, Mama."
Happy Mother's Day, all. May light, love, and abundant blessings rain down upon you and your loved ones. If your Mama is here, hug her tight. Thank her for letting you live. Tell her how much you love her.
Do it for those of us, whose sweet Moms have gone on before us. Please do it for us.
