Dept of humanity

Going to my local dept of human services office (or as some might know it, the welfare office) always evokes a strong and uncomfortable mix of emotions and thoughts. It creates a clash of my middle-class upbringing and my current below-poverty-level existence. The multiple lenses I view life through are brought into stark disparity here. In most other places of my life, these lenses I've acquired, developed and cultivated throughout my life work together quite well to help me instantaneously see multiple sides to any given situation. But, here, for reasons I'm not fully sure of yet, this perspective I have now just highlights the internal conflicts I still have unresolved. 

If you have ever thought Sociology was an "easy" line of study, or unnecessary, then you don't see what I see. The big picture of our society is so insanely complex. There is nothing black and white about anyone or their situation. Untangling the twists and turns of each persons journey and understanding how they effect each other is pretty much an possible task. 

More later...I am crawling the walls here, waiting so long to see our worker. 

To Mother, on this Fall morning.

Gosh, I want so badly to drive to your house, to make that walk up the sidewalk and let Olivia ring the doorbell like she always loved to do. To see your grinning face as you open the door and tell us hello, come in. To watch as you and Olivia embrace in such a joyous and loving hug, then I get to hug your neck and kiss your cheek. Olivia immediately does as she always does, takes off her shoes and puts them in the spot by the door and quickly chases phoebe in an attempt to hug her. Phoebe is too excited and a little scared, haha, so we simultaneously try to calm them both down. She would then ask you to turn on Super Why as she secures her spot sitting at her little table. I love that you had a table there just for her. 

Gosh, I want to feel that safety and familiarity. Nothing is actually perfect there and yet everything is as it should be. Without you, nothing is quite right anymore. 

I search endlessly and futilely for that place of comfort. It is simply gone. Just...gone. 

Why can't I find something comparable, something to fill the gap? Why won't this emptiness fill in and why won't this pain begin to heal?

Do I need to stay near to the place of familiarity or do I move away? I still feel so lost, so confused about how to really move forward without you. 

Remember the good times, the bad times, the wisdom, the humor, the imperfections, the goodness, the ultimate gift of unconditional love and acceptance--the truest, most perfect act you ever did as a mother. But, none of it stops the pain. None of it changes the fact that you are simply gone. Just...gone. And, part of me is gone, too.