Sunday, August 02, 2009


A year.

A year, today. A year since I said goodbye.

Three hundred sixty five days. Gone.

I am not sure how I feel. This day has been closing in on me for a while, like a dark cloud approaching from a distance. I wish I could just stay in bed and pull the covers over my head and let the day pass me by. It's hard to believe a year has passed. It seems like so long, yet how can it be a year already? It still seems ..... impossible. Unthinkable. I still wake up from a dream and think wow, it really did happen. She is gone. At times I still feel like I could pick up the phone and she'll be on the line. Or she'll walk in my front door calling out to the girls, "Yoo hoo, guess who's here?" Or if I wait long enough, joybelltwo will pop online in Yahoo IM.

But no, she is silent. Forever silent.

It's been a really hard year. I think about all she has missed. All the times we have missed her. Grief's cold hands have been around my throat tightening unexpectedly. The smallest thing can knock the wind out of me and make me pause to collect myself. The tall, thin lady with the hairstyle. The woman at the grocery store dressed for church. A smile from an older lady in passing... The other day I passed a woman walking in the Dollar Store and I turned and stared and thought my Mom had a shirt just like that. It was from JC Pennys. It's now hanging in my closet and I have worn it. I find myself noticing older women and thinking she must be my Mom's age. And she's still here. And my Mom is not.

I don't know if it has gotten any easier. At times, maybe. At times, I think I am ok. At times I pretend everything is ok. There have been "good" days when I think maybe I am moving past the sadness. Others, it seem so overwhelming and dark and lonely and no one understands. There is just always the feeling that something is missing. That lingering emptiness. The unspoken sadness of my Mom not being a part of our lives anymore is always there hanging over my head. I still think of things and say to myself that Mom would know the answer to that.... Valerie still talks about her a lot, which I'm glad. I hope she keeps those memories forever. There really hasn't been a single day this past year that I didn't wonder why this happened. Although I know. People die and that's that. Often unexpectedly. I just never thought I would be motherless at 35. My grandparents lived to be in their 90s. My Grandfather was 104. Given the history, I always thought my parents would follow with longevity.

We still have not managed to sort through all of her things. We started earlier in the year and got rid of a good bit. Quite honestly it makes me angry to look at all the stuff she had. All the junk. All the things she had for 'just in case' or was saving for later. She will never need any of it now. And we're having to deal with it all. She owned a ridiculous amount of things many times I have wondererd why in the hell did she keep this?? Because I often don't know and I wish I knew the meaning or the value it had to her. There is so much meaningless stuff... but yet it still means so much to me. It's just overwhelming trying to figure out what to do with it all. It's very draining to look through all of her memories. I guess that is why we keep putting it off.

Maybe someday I will come full circle. And it will be easier. Maybe someday it will get better.

Or maybe not.


  1. :hugs: It's so hard to know what to say at times like this!

  2. ((((hugs))) I don't know what to say too except that I'm keeping you in my prayers.