Not a Good Night

It's 10:25.  Early for many, yes, but we're into the school year, so it's now officially past my bedtime.  Unfortunately, I am not cozied up in my bed snoozing away.  No, I am on the couch with tear (and snot) soaked kleenex. 
I had my first counseling session a couple of weeks ago, and she wanted me to start reading Motherless Daughters.  Being the procrastinating complier that I am, I bought a digital copy tonight and read the first chapter.  It was a long chapter.  Do I remember any of it?  Not particularly.  I read a few snippets here and there to Andrew, hopefully to give him some insight from someone else's words -- better than mine, they don't seem to make much sense anymore.  Do I want to keep reading it?  Not particularly.  It was one more thing that put the "perpetual absence of her presence" right in my face.  I need her, as a rule.  Tonight I needed to see her, hear her, feel her...so I got out the few videos that I have from the few months before she died.  And then came the serious waterworks.  Dear God!
 I am not supposed to be in this place without her!  I had someone tell me today that a friend of theirs passed away yesterday, but they didn't want to be selfish and be sad because she was in heaven, and didn't I rejoice because my Mama was already with Jesus?  Sure, I told her.  I rejoice for her, she's got it great.  I cry for me.  Toby Keith sure hit the nail on the head with his song, Cryin' for Me.

I'm gonna miss that smile

I'm gonna miss you my friend

Even though it hurts the way it ended up

I'd do it all again

So play it sweet in heaven

'Cause that's where you wanna be

I'm not crying 'cause I feel so sorry for you

I'm crying for me

I don't feel like the tears will stop tonight. 

• I don't want to go to my counseling session tomorrow night and then to my 'grief education and support group.' 
• I don't want to keep feeling this way. 
• I don't want to have to deal with this in some way shape or form for the rest of my life. 
• I don't want to continue to feel like a failure because I don't feel like I'm relying on the Lord like I want to or feel like I should. 
• I don't want to make other people uncomfortable by vomiting my grief on them when I can contain it no longer. 
• I don't want my children to grow up without my mother for a grandmother. 
• I don't want to be without my friend and confidante. 

What I "don't want," however, doesn't really matter, apparently. 

So here I sit, alone with my tears.