Sometimes I still find myself saddened to the point that tears trickle down my cheeks. No one sees this, I make sure of it, but surely enough it happens. It happens when I see a mother with her daughter, when I am so excited over something Nathan did that I just want to tell someone about it right then, when I can’t remember how much flour to add to chicken and dumplings, when I feel like I need a soft place to fall and I have no one to turn to.
It hurts. So much. It starts deep in my belly until a huge lump forms in my throat and makes it ache. Then the tears come and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
It reminds me of a childhood memory. I was once sitting on my bed crying and my mom came and sat next to me. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her I didn’t know, but that it hurts. She asked me to show her what hurts, and I tried to convey just where the big lump in my throat was. She explained to me, “Your feelings are hurt.” In my very young mind, I could only conclude one thing, which led me to the question: why, exactly, would God put my feelings in my throat?
Today I had to rummage through her belongings again in a attempt to start putting them up. The simple things strike me the most. Her suitcase is just as she left it, as is her purse. Little pieces of her that she left behind: Crumpled receipts, a tube of mascara, a pack of Dentyne gum with all but two pieces of gum punched through the shiny foil on the back. Me.