The Grieving Atheist

A couple weeks ago I drove the family to Cape May NJ for a dolphin cruise. One of those Living Social deals, about to expire, purchased back when things were more lighthearted. As I pulled into town, I felt the need to call my mom, to let her know we’d arrived safely. That’s what I used to do. That’s what she wanted me to do. It boggles my mind… how someone can care so much about you one week and be flat out gone the next. And all of a sudden, you’re left wondering who cares about you. No one, really. Or rather, no one as much as Mom.

I ache so badly for my children. She loved them best. No one one loved them the way she did. She bought the best presents. She taught them. She loved them unconditionally and, unlike my Mother in Law, she actually wanted to get to know them, not just parade them around for friends and talk to them like little morons.

I used to feel burdened by her love in some ways, like I could do so much if I didn’t have to worry her. But now, I don’t want to do anything because I can’t tell her about it. These moments bring to to my knees, leave me in a puddle, sobbing like a small child, “Mommy, please come back to me.”