Watching the tail lights disappear

When I was about five years old, my oldest sister ran away from home. I thought it sounded like a good idea, so I told my parents that I wanted to run away from home, too. I remember packing my suitcase in my bedroom upstairs. I included my favorite Christmas book. My dad saw the book and removed it from my suitcase while saying something like, “Santa doesn’t visit kids who run away.” 

I remember riding in my dad’s car. He drove me out of our little town and into the wilderness. It was dark outside. He dropped me off and drove away, my five-year-old self watching the tail lights disappear over the horizon. I really don’t remember how long I was out there. But I remember how I felt, even though it happened more than 50 years ago. Alone, abandoned, disoriented, and afraid.

My dad died when I was 24 years old, leaving me with unfinished business and complicated feelings that have taken a lifetime to work through. My mom lived alone for decades.

Less than a year ago, my mom died. She was 86. Her only brother, my favorite uncle, also died last year, just a few months after my mom died. They were the last two people on the planet that loved and nurtured me when I was a child. Even though their deaths were part of the normal circle of life, and they were both ready for it, their loss has affected me more than I anticipated. I was with each of them, holding their hands as their lungs stopped breathing and their hearts stopped beating. I saw my mom leave. It feels more difficult for me now than it was in those moments because I replay it in my mind, and I feel their absence so deeply.

Tonight as I lay awake in bed, an image came in my mind that illustrated my feelings of aloneness in this world. I saw myself somewhere in the wilderness, and the picture quickly zoomed out until I was a tiny speck in the vast, empty space. I saw this over and over in my mind. It was like the reverse of watching my dad’s tail lights disappear over the horizon. It was like me seeing me…that adult me…alone, abandoned, disoriented, and afraid, just like I was more than 50 years ago.

I felt compelled to get out of bed and write this down because it feels important to remember and share.

I do have family and friends who love and care about me. I have a full life. It’s a good life.

But I watched my mother leave last year. I watched her tail lights disappear over the horizon, and I still feel it.