It’s been a year now that I’ve tried to live life without my mother. There are times when it feels like forever ago, but most of the time that feeling of pain and loss is still as fresh as the day she was gone. In a way I’m thankful that I’m no longer dreaming about her on a nightly basis, dreaming that she’s still here and I was talking to her about something random only to wake up and remember that she wasn’t and the grief cycle starts all over again. But there are moments when I will find something so seemingly insignificant, like an old recipe in her handwriting, that will leave me feeling like I’d just been punched in the stomach and I collapse into tears. I’m not sure that’s normal – it is what it is.
For some people, I’m sure this must sound like a broken record, that it’s been a year so it’s time to ‘get on with things’. To those people I can only say, quite simply, I can’t. Everything has changed so utterly and completely, I’m not even sure what it is exactly that I’m supposed to get on with anymore.
While I don’t think it’s very healthy to continue to dwell on her passing, I feel like I’ve moved beyond that dark place now. Right now I’m just trying to determine my next moves. Losing Mom so abruptly had prompted some serious life questions that led to some major changes, ultimately for the better. I think, anyway – at least that’s what I hope.
I think I’ve said all I can at the moment about the subject, so I will leave you with the blog post I wrote last year when I was living a different life. It happened to be the day of her funeral.
Miss you, Mommy.