As soon as I think to call my mom, another quick thought enters my head. I can’t. She’s not there to answer the phone. She’s not there. She’s not here. The thought I struggle most with is that I don’t know where she is. It’s just so hard to wrap my head around the fact that she’s not. She was, but now she’s not.
So, I know that her body died, expired, ceased. I watched it. I watched her take her last tortured breath, after two days of short, shallow attempts and no conscious communication with me ~ or with my sister, as we kneeled by the hospice bed to witness Mom’s departure from this planet.
But, what plane is she on? Is there one? Is there a level of energy on which her spirit resides? Is she with Arthur, her love? Is she with her mom and dad? Is it the desirable, self-conjured heaven we picture from the film, What Dreams May Come? Or is she present, after all, among us, who still breathe? Floating in and out of our daily lives, our minds and our memories?
I also just can’t believe that it’s nothingness. There’s just too much to our living selves to imagine that that’s it, the end. The aura, the energy, the spirit. It’s got to be somewhere. And, maybe it’ll come back.
There’s something to the idea of new souls and old souls, I believe. I think that it must be a waste of energy for just one go-around. Life is short, but having many lives may offer us the opportunity to finally get it right. The lessons we learn, the goals we grasp and the accomplishments we attain must aid us in our future lives. I’m not talking so much about Karma and dung beetles, as I am just plain economy. As the global population increases each year, there’s got to be some recycling. What if we’re simply given the choice to return? Some say yes, some say no. Hinduism aside, how many turns can one human take?
I am writing a screenplay, which I had pitched to my mom, months before she became sick and she, being the good mother she was, was supportive. But, she was also genuinely taken with the premise. (She gave a note or two.) Now that Mom is somewhere, and as I write this screenplay, which is housed within the parameters of reincarnation, I like to imagine that she (although a constant Christian) welcomes the chance for another round. And, she felt that this most recent life had not been her first; she was an old soul. She loved all things from the Orient, she had told me many times. She believed that she’d been there before ~ in another lifetime.
Just a few years before Mom passed, she’d gotten a passport in the hopes to travel beyond the familiar. My sister and I recently found it among other papers and sadly; there are no stamps in it. Maybe no stamps, but there was hope. Well, she doesn’t need that passport now, because she’s got to be somewhere.