Had my usual nightmares on the couch this morning. Most often, they’re about my mother.
I haven’t been to visit my mother’s grave in a very long time. Years and years. I was telling Desmond while we were walking through the cemetery on Sunday. I said someday I would take him to that cemetery, because not only is my mother there, it’s beautiful, and you can see the ocean from it.
I’ve learned to appreciate cemeteries for their history. I think Desmond is the same. Aislyn is still too little to understand. She wants to run around and play. It just takes some gentle reminding, though, to be respectful of everything she sees, and she does okay. But she tired quickly on Sunday, so I took her home.
I still struggle with what happens to you after you die. I am a recovering Catholic, but other than that, I am not really any religion, right now, except my own. I believe in something, though. I always have.
I feel guilty that the kids have no religious education. But I can’t raise them Catholic if I’m not truly Catholic. Also, Derek is not Catholic. We could raise them Protestant, but we’d have to go to church. Aislyn would not do well in church. Let’s just say it would take a lot of training on my part.
And would I be ready to go back to church?
It’s been 21 years. I’m almost my mother’s age when she died. I’ve resisted church all these years because I get visibly emotional. But maybe that’s okay.
Maybe I just need to find a church that’s accepting of the possibility that they might have a parishioner standing in the pews with tears running down her face. I don’t know.
This is deep for an early morning post. Sorry to bum you out, readers. Unfortunately, I have to go, so I won’t be late again today. So put on some happy tunes on your commute, and don’t forget to steer clear of those road ragers.