I got the news that my mom passed away on June 15th. I sat in my room, in complete shock…..and then the power went out. So there I was, sitting alone in the complete darkness, in the middle of the Paraguayan campo, with a newly formed hole in my heart, sobbing hysterically about my dead mother. Nothing about this situation felt real. And honestly... if you cry alone in the Paraguayan campo and no one is there to see it, did you really even cry at all?
I made it home about 48 hours after receiving the news...
The week leading up to my mom’s memorial service was a blur, we focused on planning every last detail, finally something we had control over. My sister and I looked through about a million old pictures, picking out which ones would go in her obituary, which ones will go on the memorial card, which ones will go in her slideshow, which ones will go on which photo boards, which ones will go up in the church, ect. We wrote up and sent in her obituary, we picked out an urn, we picked hymns and bible versus and we wrote our speeches and practiced our speeches for the service, we picked out music for the reception, we picked out flowers and cards to go on the tables…all the while trying to think “what mom would have wanted.” There was a lot of talk about “what mom would have wanted” and I just wanted to scream “She didn’t want any of this, she didn’t want to die, she doesn’t want us planning her memorial service, NO, NO NO!!!!!”
Friends and family flew in. Cards piled up on our kitchen table. Texts, calls, Facebook messages and comments blew up our phones.
After the memorial service at the church was over, and the reception at the country club finished, there was a lull. Family and friends flew back home. The cards had been opened and put away. The calls, texts, and messages became less frequent.
Then it was just us, our family. Except for it wasn’t our family. We were missing the most important part of our family. It all seemed so wrong. I hated it. My mom wasn’t here. She wasn’t where she belonged. She was gone. And now in her place I felt this weight in my chest. My heart ached.
I don’t know a world without my mom in it, and I can’t picture one either. So I try to picture her up in heaven, watching over us, but I can’t picture that either. I can’t figure out why she would want to be watching us, instead of being with us. Wouldn’t that just be pure torture, watching all the things that she isn’t a part of, watching how upset and lost we are without her?
So what am I left with? I found my answer one night before I drifted off into the dream world. I just heard my mom’s voice, saying my name. And there she was. She wasn’t gone. She wasn’t sitting up somewhere in the sky watching me. She was within me. She’s in my memories, she’s in my thoughts, she’s in my prayers, she’s still here with my family.
I see her faith and perseverance in my brother. I see her compassion and patience in my sister. I see her courage and selflessness in my dad. And every single day, I search for her positivity.
Oh but it’s not easy. Nothing about this is easy. The week after the memorial I didn’t want to shower, put on pants, leave the house, or eat anything that wasn’t ice-cream. And then I could picture my mom saying to me, “Kathryne, you need to shower, put on a bra and go back to the real world.”
So here I am. Back in Paraguay (not sure if that counts as the real world, but I’m here anyway) and wearing a bra.
After 13 flights in 2 months, I am officially back in the ‘guay, for good. It’s hard. My heart still aches. I still feel broken. When my paraguayan neighbors come up to me and hug me, it takes everything in me not to sob in their arms. But you know what, the world is somehow still turning, so that means that somehow I have to find a way to keep going too.
I’m back in site, and luckily it looks like there’s a lot going on to keep me busy. I’ll write soon about my first night back in Curupayty, where I witnessed a crazy Paraguayan celebration. It looks like Habitat for Humanity is coming to a town near me that I’ll be able to help volunteer with, and there’s an environment workshop this month that hopefully I can get involved in too. My guarani has definitely declined from all the time in the US, so I’m sure to embarrass myself even more than I have in the past. And then come August, I will be reunited with all of the other health volunteers in my G for two weeks of more training back with my original host family in Guarambare.
Lots of good stuff coming up, thankfully. As for now, just send good vibes my way. I’m looking forward to finally being able to settle in my site and see what I can do here.