A couple of blogs ago, I wrote something about Orcus (want to read it? click here - the part about Orcus is about half way down).
There aren't many myths about Orcus - those which exist picture him as a just and dispassionate personage which meets us as we pass beyond death, escorting us on to whatever fate awaits in the afterlife.
My brother just called. Our mutual mother just passed away. She was 89 years old. He was shaken, but sounded reasonably collected, telling me he was sitting with his wife, waiting for someone from the VA to arrive.
The moment the phone rang at 1:45 in the morning I knew who it was, and what the message would be.
A moment of hesitation, then I threw the covers back and obeyed the insistent ring.
My brother sounded helpless. Hi, Sis. She's gone.
Are you okay? I could feel the great emptiness settling in my innards and wasn't surprised that the first words out of my mouth were calm and effective. When crisis strikes, generally I flinch once then become highly and dismally efficient.
Yeah, I'm okay. His sigh was just slightly shuddered. I mean, I'm not - but I'm okay. Just thought you should know...have to go get a decent shirt.
Funny what we think of at such times.
As I hung up the phone, I resigned myself to a long night of too much awareness and not quite enough sensibility to grasp what aloneness really is. This woman who had abandoned me, abused me and tried to eliminate me from this life...she was gone. I can't remember there ever being a time when she wasn't my personal stalker.
But then, there is no time prior to one's mother. At least not in this life.
Still, she was human. A human I was intimately connected with has died. It's a note which strikes deep.
Now starts a great without.
I also wonder how she's getting along with Orcus.