The Side Wound
On sticking around as long as possible and sticking, in general
This isn’t the post I'm supposed to be writing right now. I’m supposed to be doing one of a dozen other things. But I miss Mommabear and I just want to mope and wallow. So much is going on in my life and I no longer have her grounding force. Of course, it’s also a few days away from Mother’s Day and I don’t even have my Daddy to recognize me and her in that anymore.
I have a house showing to go to (we’re selling our house and looking for a new one). I have other articles to schedule and write (this one was last on the list). I have a press to prepare for. I have phone plans to rearrange and children to take to appointments, meals to make and a dog to walk. So many things. But I just want to hug my mom.
Death sucks. And don’t let me tell you differently! Do I long to be with Jesus? Yes, but none too soon. I want to stick around for as long as possible, getting belligerent and wrinkly. I want to see my kids become grandparents and walk through these stages with them, go through all the stages my mom didn’t get to.
Where the fuck am I going with this? I can barely see what I type as tears stream down my face because I’m jealous of Jesus that He gets to be with Mommabear and I don’t. What an absolute stinker! He couldn’t have waited a little longer? Good Lord! He is impatient! And jealous. But if He’s jealous, I get to be jealous, too. I am made in His image and likeness, after all.
All I want to say is that it is good to rest. And rest is sometimes fitful. My rest right now is very fitful, but I rest in His side wound, because that’s where He has invited me in. And slowly, very slowly, I am becoming one with Him there, and it is very sticky. I know that through His pain and mine, He is melding me into one with Him, so that not only will I never be separated from Him but I will never be separated from Mommabear or my children again.
I am snuggled in the side wound like I used to snuggle next to Mommabear. She was like fly paper to me, I couldn’t let go of her. I wanted to spend my time with her, wanted to go on adventures with her, wanted to be by her side. Truly, a part of me was ripped away when she died and I have not been the same since.
The thing about being in the side wound is that you start to see the world through it, see the world through pain and love, through water and blood. And things look mighty different that way. So little actually matters. Truly, only love remains. The money, it falls away. The fame, it fades. The power, it crumbles. The only sticky thing in this world is love, and that is what you should cling to.
I had love, with Mommabear, and I wouldn’t say entirely that I lost it, but I didn’t get to see it through to completion. Now it is a love that tears my heart open constantly, reminding me to bleed, to love, to leave it all on the floor. Don’t bottle it up waiting for the perfect day or person— those are now. Leave it on the floor because the only love worth living and dying for is love spilt for one another. Sticky.
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