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Memories of My Mother

Don't worry this isn't going to turn into some novel...hopefully, but I thought I'd share with you where I am at with the process of grief with my mom.

It's been just over three months.  I'll probably remember the date, or at least the time of year forever since a lot happened that week...a good friend had her first baby, I celebrated my seventh wedding anniversary, my mom missed sixth month mark of her diagnosis by a day, and in a horribly cruel twist further into my heart, my best friend lost her mom unexpectedly the day before.  Oh, and this was all by Wednesday of that week.

By Sunday, it was all over.  She was cremated, visiting hours were done, funeral was done.  My brother took my niece to her soccer game and after, what I suppose you could call a process of elimination, I had my mom in her urn in the back of my car and headed back home.  Hmph.  Would've thought there'd be a little more pomp and circumstance.   Not so much.

So, where does that leave me?  I'm doing ok.  There isn't a better way to say it.  I find myself only really allowing myself to have moments and they are hard.  The holidays were easier than I thought, but I was so busy.  Work also has kept me busy.  My brother and I don't talk at all about it really.  I know if given the time I could cry for hours about it, but I haven't given myself that luxury yet.  I imagine when it really builds up I will pop in Joy Luck Club or put Pandora onto Barry Manilow just to shock my system and force it out.

It did take weeks to get the images of her last day out of my head every time I'd close my eyes or lie to sleep.  That, I can't write about yet.

In several of my updates, like this one in particular, I mentioned fearing that I didn't know what I'd remember about my mom.  I couldn't bring myself to really capture anything and that scared me.  Thankfully, that has all worked out on its own.  I actually had to re-read my posts writing this one and was like "Oh, yeah that all happened", because I have blocked out so much of it.  I seem to have subconsciously cut her off where our relationship turned sour.  Thus, leaving me with the mental state of a 7 yr. old girl who loved her mom unconditionally until she wised up a bit. There is the sound of her laughter.  For all the pain and hurt she caused me, she did love to laugh and I can still hear that.  She gave great hugs.  She wasn't skinny and nowhere near in shape and I loved how her frame felt to hug.  I've let the memory of the chain smoking and its smell disappear when I hug her in my dreams.  That's comforting.   I can still remember some of the fights we had, others I had totally blocked out years ago.  But my mind doesn't search them out or the years of hurt I had.  I'm so thankful for that.  My mom and I had come to a place of understanding and weren't fighting daily, but visits were still tough.  It had been that way since I had become a mother myself, five years before and she had gotten clean cleaner off pain killers.  I like to think she looked at me raising the boys and said, "Hmph, she really does have her shit together. Imagine that."

I know my mom is in a far far better place, that honestly I was surprised she hadn't been called to home earlier than this.  She is not suffering and she did suffer through a lot over the years. I ended up saving one of her voicemails unknowingly and I'm so glad I have it.  She says her usual sayings in it and it is a great comfort when I need to hear her voice.  How great modern technology can be.

Just another day I suppose.


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