Meltdown in the laundry room

It all started this morning with a little end-of-the-year tidying-up weirdness. In an effort to put away the 4-pack of toilet bowl cleaner purchased yesterday at Costco (a couple of years supply when you live alone), I had to make room on the upper shelf in the laundry room. Down came some old stuff like the do-it-yourself dry-cleaning kit that had been up there for years, unused because I was always wary of those chemicals. So into the trash that went, along with an almost empty silicone spray can and other things just as uninteresting.

I found a small container of Tide Fresh and Clean that was hiding up there - in an unfamiliar yellow bottle that perplexed me. I wondered why and when I bought that, and then I put it on the washing machine with the thought that I would use it up in the next load.

All fine and good until tonight, when I threw in some towels and grabbed the Tide. And then, the flashback hit me fast and hard. I'm sure it was the smell that wafted into the room as I unscrewed the bottle top. The last time my son Chad was at my house was a few days before he died, and he did his laundry then. He was the one who brought over that small bottle of Tide. Yes, that was it. Oh my God, the last hands on that bottle of laundry detergent were Chad's.

The memory of the last time he stood in my laundry room came flooding back like a tsunami. I smelled his laundry. I smelled him. And I remembered him leaving that day, laundry basket in his hands as I closed the door and locked it as he walked to his car.

And then I came back to myself, to tonight, to me standing in the laundry room five and a half years later. And I melted down. A really big meltdown. The screaming, yelling, sobbing kind that you don't know until you know. I just kept saying (aloud) "could this really be true, could he really be gone, and could this really be THE laundry detergent, five and a half years later?"

Those words may not sound like much but let me tell you, the emotion wrapped in them was nothing short of nightmare. And the words were nothing compared to what I said later, as the meltdown worsened:

"Could this really be acceptable to you Lord? How is this acceptable? How is it acceptable that you let mothers go through this? How in the world? How in the world? How in the world? But if it wasn't acceptable to you then you wouldn't let it happen, so it must be acceptable. And if it is acceptable to you, how could you think this is acceptable? This is not ok. It's really not ok at all Lord. Could this really be true? Is he really gone? How am I going through this all over again? And why now, with this stupid detergent?"

Oh it was a bad meltdown tonight.

Whether or not it's acceptable to me, or to God, I guess what matters at the moment is that my unasked-for-work now is that I have to keep accepting it. Layer upon layer upon layer of continuous acceptance, Low Tide, High Tide, or No Tide.

Old Year, New Year, Every Year. Until I die.

Could this really be true, you ask?

"Really, Rita?"

"Yes, really."

It's easy to forget that meltdowns come and go. It's just the time between them that extends. You may find it helpful to know that you are not, and never will be, alone:

"...stand firm in the faith, knowing that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings..." 1 Peter 5:8-9 (adapted)