Six Months. Half a year. It seems like it has been an eternity, yet how can it be six months
already??
I've really been dreading this half-year mark.
So much has happened, so much has changed, so much my Mom missed. So many times that we missed her.
I still find myself thinking of random things I want to ask or tell her.
And every now and then the sinking feeling creeps up on me and the thought comes to mind - My Mom Is Dead. It really happened. It just didn't seem like it was something she'd do -- die. At least, not this soon.
It's odd how the triggers come and go at the strangest times. Driving down the road, something will come to me... and the tears start again. Or I'll see someone who resembles her. Or with a shirt on that was her style...
I wish that lady at the gym would stop telling me stories about her
grandkids. They call her
MeMe. She goes on and on about the cute things her granddaughter says and does and how much she loves to visit. My girls don't have a
MeMe anymore. I don't want to hear her stories. My girls will never have any more stories.
Every so often, Valerie will tell me me she's sad. When I ask why, "I miss
MeMe."
Those that "get it" seem few and far between. I hear "Oh I know how you feel, my Aunt/
mawmaw/cousin/uncle/neighbor etc. died." No, sorry, it's not the same as losing a parent. Especially your Mom.
I can still picture her in my mind, happy, smiling. I can still hear her voice. I hope that never goes away.
I wish I could have good dreams about her. In every dream I have about her, she is sick or dying. Or there is something mysteriously wrong. Then I wake up with the pain in my heart.
I am just so sad that she is not here.
I miss her so much. Every day.