I almost forgot about Mother's Day this year. Almost.
Saying that I miss my mom doesn't even even touch on how I feel. What I feel is so much more than that. The first Mother's Day without her left me feeling as if I were coming undone. I couldn't keep myself from remembering her even though I was trying my best not to. Back then I had still not given myself permission to mourn the loss of my mom and Mother's Day is not was not a good day to start the grieving process. I know that I might have seemed like I was coping well to almost anybody who spoke to me that day but that wasn't the case.
I felt like I had to hold back my grief and keep myself together. I held back so that I wouldn't cry in front of anyone. I held it all in because I felt like if I could just bottle it up, then it would get easier. I didn't understand then what I do now. It doesn't get easier no matter how emotionally detached I try to be. Time has a way of metamorphosing loss but it doesn't make it easier. Time makes coping possible, but there are some days, such as Mother's Day, when all that matters is just holding on.
Last night I was consumed by memories of my mom, both good and bad. It was odd because the memories occured when I was sleeping but they weren't dreams. Every memory was real and every memory hurts in it's own fashion, whether good or bad. I agonize over my mom's death and I replay it over and over again in my head. The pain is visceral and intense. My senses go into overdrive and I recount every sight, sound and smell when I access that memory. I can even remember the temperature in the hospital and how it compared with the temperature outside. What I remember the most is the way that I felt. I felt as though when she died, that a part of me died with her. When she died, I felt the deepest regret because there was so much more that I wanted to say to her and apologize for. I ached for my dad because he lost the woman that he loved so much for so long and he wanted to comfort his children and grandchildren, but who was going to comfort him? He shouldered that pain alone and my heart broke for him then, and it still breaks for him now. I was sad for all of the family not just because we lost her, but because I knew that she was the glue that held so much of our family together and without her, it wouldn't be very long before pieces would start to crumble and fall away. Our shared pain should have brought us together but instead, it shattered us.
I have moments on occasion when I forget that she's gone and for that moment, I feel complete. But a moment doesn't last long and once it passes, I feel that hollow spot again and I don't know whether to be thankful for the prior moment because I had my mom back, or to curse it for how deeply it cut when I remember that she's really gone.
I'm glad to have all of my memories of her because those memories are all I have to keep her alive in my heart. Every memory is beautiful and excrutiating for me. They're all bittersweet because they're all that I have of her.
My mom and I had a wonderful and complicated relationship and for that I will always be so thankful. I learned so much from her even if I didn't know it at the time! She was good like that! I love her for being the mom that she was to me. She turned even the most simple thing into a learning opportunity, like grocery shopping with me. She taught me how to read by teaching me how to read labels, coupons and advertisements while shopping with me. Her love of reading inspired mine. I know that I had a way of really making her angry but even when I did, I felt loved no matter what. She never had a problem with showing affection and saying "I love you" which seems like it's a given for what moms do, but nonetheless, I'm so glad that she was loving to me.
To say simply that I miss her and that I love her cheapens what she meant to me. She was so much more than that. I keep her picture in my wallet and I have pictures of her around my house. I keep her old driver's license and a check that she wrote me the month before she died in my wallet, too. It hurts like Hell to have these reminders around but the thought of not having them is a much worse thought. I hold on to every bit of her that I can and while it comforts me, it's a bittersweet comfort.
I'd like to think that when she died, she took with her the piece of me that died with her. I'd like to think that she is holding that piece of my heart, just like I hold her in my memory.
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