When I was somewhere within the ages of six and eight we lived an hour or so away from my grandparents’ home and often on the way there I would fall asleep to avoid car-sickness. On this particular trip I had done just that. I'm not sure what landmark we had just passed or just how long I had been green with unease before falling asleep, but it happened in the usual way. Sleeping in the car as a child is much different than the light dozing of an adult and I soon found myself in a bit of wonderland. Shapes were unclear and lights were blurred but much of the other world was very clear and yet vague at the same time.
In this place of imagination I was in a dimly lit room with rows of chairs and people dawning the traditional black of mourning when I realized that everyone was turned around looking at me and my brother as we were standing at the back of the room. My brother led the way down the very long center isle where at the very front was positioned a large black box which I knew held the body of someone who was no longer a part of even this very unreal reality. My brother lingered at the casket for a short time and then made his way to a row of empty chairs at the side of the room.
I felt an urge to approach the big black box myself but was hindered by deep senses of both grief and emptiness. Upon finally reaching the object which I dreaded the most at that moment I saw the loving face which had greeted my own into the world I knew as true reality. It was the face I kissed at night before approaching this shadow of life, this wonderland that I now stood weeping in. Yet, as the tears rolled down my round cheeks I stood as an adult within my six or seven-year-old frame. Had those tears not fallen in that wonderland none of the faceless onlookers would have known that a bit of grief existed in the child who had just been robbed of the only stable adult in her life.
As my body awoke and therefore slowly brought my shadow with it from this land of loss, I found myself alone in the back seat. My face was resting in a pool of tears and my lungs gasped for air while my lumped throat would only let short breaths in through the repeated sobbings. I sat there a few moments in the mess created by the imaginary parting from my beloved mother and as the crying subsided I thought I had found myself in yet another dimension of dreamland.
Lying helplessly in the seat I saw her face once again. I thought that she had returned from whatever I thought lay beyond the physical once again only to walk past the window. As the tears again began to flow, the door opened and the real and touchable arms that I had found comfort in so many times before cradled my trembling body. The lips which had touched my face so tenderly in the past were again placed upon my forehead. And as my mother spoke softly into my ears I once again found comfort. The strong pain passed but I did not let my mother out of my sight on that visit to grandma's. I never wanted to have those feelings again and was determined not to leave her side.
In this place of imagination I was in a dimly lit room with rows of chairs and people dawning the traditional black of mourning when I realized that everyone was turned around looking at me and my brother as we were standing at the back of the room. My brother led the way down the very long center isle where at the very front was positioned a large black box which I knew held the body of someone who was no longer a part of even this very unreal reality. My brother lingered at the casket for a short time and then made his way to a row of empty chairs at the side of the room.
I felt an urge to approach the big black box myself but was hindered by deep senses of both grief and emptiness. Upon finally reaching the object which I dreaded the most at that moment I saw the loving face which had greeted my own into the world I knew as true reality. It was the face I kissed at night before approaching this shadow of life, this wonderland that I now stood weeping in. Yet, as the tears rolled down my round cheeks I stood as an adult within my six or seven-year-old frame. Had those tears not fallen in that wonderland none of the faceless onlookers would have known that a bit of grief existed in the child who had just been robbed of the only stable adult in her life.
As my body awoke and therefore slowly brought my shadow with it from this land of loss, I found myself alone in the back seat. My face was resting in a pool of tears and my lungs gasped for air while my lumped throat would only let short breaths in through the repeated sobbings. I sat there a few moments in the mess created by the imaginary parting from my beloved mother and as the crying subsided I thought I had found myself in yet another dimension of dreamland.
Lying helplessly in the seat I saw her face once again. I thought that she had returned from whatever I thought lay beyond the physical once again only to walk past the window. As the tears again began to flow, the door opened and the real and touchable arms that I had found comfort in so many times before cradled my trembling body. The lips which had touched my face so tenderly in the past were again placed upon my forehead. And as my mother spoke softly into my ears I once again found comfort. The strong pain passed but I did not let my mother out of my sight on that visit to grandma's. I never wanted to have those feelings again and was determined not to leave her side.
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