Mourning of a New Day

I've torn a ligament before and I remember that hurting like...well, like nothing I'd ever done to my right leg before.  I've even given birth to children without the benefit of drugs but nothing hurts like this awful hole in my heart.  Where there was laughter and bubbles and snacks with a story before bed, there is a phone call where I can hear the wistful tone of voice and I hold back the tremble in my voice until I'm safely off the line.  My mind could not handle the pain of a life without them, my three rambunctious teenagers whose freckly smiles have filled my days for the last 18 years.  Through circumstance and God's divine will, I am alone and trying to lead by example.  I edit essays via phone and email, I fb cute messages to them each day so they know they are loved and I'm thinking of them.  What I would like to do is to go somewhere far, far away where no one could hear me and let out the howl of despair and anguish that is stuffed down deep into my soul.  I would be like the Jews during the second world war or really any period in their history when they mourned.  It would be so satisfying to let the pain out, tear my clothes over my heart where it's broken and put dirt over my head to show the depth of my pain.  No pride or protocol.  Just raw emotion of a mother in pain and trying her best to follow the path that is laid out before her.  Sure, there will be satisfaction in learning to help others and achieving a degree to have, my first one.  I will have time and love and energy to pour into helping others make themselves whole again.  First, I have to give up this primal battle of pain and promise of a new future and just let it be.  I'm not sure how to do that but that is what this journey is about.  It's almost mid-night and I have an early therapy appointment tomorrow so I really should be getting some rest.  Not to worry, I have perfected leaping out of my bed and getting from pj's to bus stop in under 20 minutes, head to toe.  No need to call Guinness, I'm sure some single mother has the record on that already.  We've all had those mornings where the power is out overnight and everyone oversleeps.  Mine have actually eaten cereal in the car on the way to school with their juice boxes and vitamins.  I remember getting out of the car in the back of the school where nobody could see and giving each of them a huge hug to last the day and a kiss...usually in my robe and pajamas.  My oldest would always wait to be last so she could get the most and sometimes would come back for seconds so I'd dip her, kiss her cheek a bunch and smack her on the butt to start the day with a smile.  I think it's those early days and all the affection they were used to that make it so hard for me to think of them now without that.  They're getting a roof and food, not much else.  I have to acknowledge that for once, and not for the first time, a situation is out of my control and I just have to trust my Maker to look after them for me.  My heart aches for them and it's hard to feel that pain and be this new person that I'm inventing.  One with a new home, friends old and new as well as completely different plans for my future than I ever would have dreamed.  So...a little excitement eases the pain and I wonder what tomorrow will bring.  I think I'll skip the decaf and go straight for the hard stuff in the morning.  Then I'll make sure I take my anti anxiety medication right along with it to counter balance my large double double.  Ah the joy of self medicating...but they only call it that if you're depressed.  The rest of the people get to refer to it as a wonderful culinary experience.  I wonder what Juan Valdez would think of that.  For that matter, I wonder what his donkey would have to say about it.  I don't suppose I'll ever find out.