Some days you’re just stuck in the muck and crap. You try and try but you’re just too tired to pull yourself out of it. Usually, you ask for help to get out of what feels like a huge sucking vortex but sometimes even asking for that is draining. So you wait. Eventually it gets better and the crap goes away right?
I’m sure I’ve talked about all of this before. Ad nauseam. But this is a blog about working through pain and emotions and grief so…who knows? Maybe someone else needs to read this as much as I need to purge myself of it right now, and the reality is – nobody is forced to read this if they don’t want to.
Most days – are good. Normal. Uneventful. But then I go on a streak of days that aren’t as good and I feel like a huge weight is sitting on my chest and it’s hard to breathe…and no…I’m not having a heart attack. I’m in a very pissy and sarcastic mood right now. Not my norm. But welcome to the unpredictable world of a predictable person.
I’m going to tell you – it’s ok to feel this way. It doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you. You just have a bad case of chronic humanitis. It happens to all of us. Predictably. The last couple of weeks have been full of a lot of Mom and Maddie. Especially Mom. I miss her a lot. A lot more than I thought I would. I have soooo many things I keep wanting to ask her about or show her. And I can’t. It’s ok. I’m just angry about it right now. Really really angry. I haven’t blogged in forever and I need the outlet now. I think it would help me to talk about some of the things that I’ve been carrying this week. So bear with me. Or don’t. (Sorry…it’s not personal…it’s the pissy side coming out again.)
I guess I would say to her that – “I’ve been doing a lot of yard work and I know how you loved flowers and gardens. So I’m looking all over our back yard and thinking of you constantly. I wish you could be here to enjoy it with me, or to tell me what kind of plants or flowers we have, or birds. There’s an adorable hummingbird couple that I know you would get a kick out of. We see them every day. They’re a ruby-throated couple. The male is so pretty but the female is really sweet too. We see them flit around from flower to flower, fly off, and then come right back again. I can picture you now sitting on the deck smiling and laughing and getting excited about the different birds. I wonder if you ever painted a hummingbird picture? I don’t remember seeing one. I just feel really empty Mom…there’s such a hole in my heart and I feel it so much. I wish you could be here. I know everyone misses you just as much as I do. How long did you miss your Mom after she died? Did you ever stop missing her? I know we were all young kids at the time. I was only in second grade so a lot of the kids weren’t born yet. There’s such a feeling of loneliness. I hate it. Did you feel that way too? I know you felt a lot of times like you didn’t have answers, but you did. In your own way, you did. You were just quiet about your answers. I think in a lot of ways I stopped feeling like you were my “mom” in a sense or maybe a better way to put it is “motherly”, after Dad died. You were so lost and busy raising the younger kids. I remember resenting you for that for awhile. Dad was gone and I selfishly needed a mother figure then, but you were just trying to survive yourself. You only had so much to give and you were so good with the younger ones. In a lot of ways I felt like I became “mom” to you later on. I know it happens with adult children and their parents as they age. I’m sure the other kids felt the same at times too. I didn’t like it though. I just wanted a parent. So many emotions we all went through. You always did your best though. You drove me nuts sometimes. I drove you nuts sometimes too. I think about you a lot lately when I play the piano. It’s sitting pretty close to where your hospital bed was set up in the living room. The place is special because the seat is right where you reached out and held my face when you were dying. You couldn’t talk anymore and barely responded. It was the day before you died. I was standing next to the bed and you looked at me and tried to smile and reached up and held my cheek in your hand for a minute. No words. But I knew you were saying thank you to all of us and that you loved us. I know you knew this was going to be so very very hard for me and all of us. I miss you so so much Mom. The hard days are fewer and fewer but when they hit they aren’t any easier.
Remember when we took you for a ride out to Waterville when you were sick? You wanted to get out of the house so we took you with your oxygen canister and a spare one too so that you could breathe okay. Do you remember – I had forgotten to check the oxygen level on your replacement before we left and it turns out it was almost empty! I didn’t tell you it was (until we got home) because I didn’t want you to panic and use even more oxygen than you would have, so I pretended it was ok while we tried to quickly get you home. You laughed afterward and said you wondered why you felt winded…(eeks!) 😉 That was a fun ride, and Tony had the radio on the country station you always liked and Lynn Anderson’s song “Rose Garden” came on and I sang it to you. You really liked that. I thought of you Saturday because Tony had his dad over and the song came on the radio and I sang it to him. He loved it. He just grinned and laughed! I pointed to him at different times during the song as if I was singing to him. He thought it was great fun! But it makes me miss you so very very much. I want so bad to drive over to your townhouse tonight just to look at it again and feel you there, but it would be too hard. I would see your kitchen window and know that you weren’t really there, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good!! Julie put a beautiful basket of flowers on your grave. You’d really like them. But I think I have to go “kick a little derriere” at the cemetery because they still haven’t planted grass on your grave. I’m sure it’s an oversight, but I’ll get it taken care of hopefully. I hate going there though. I don’t think of you and Dad being there. It’s depressing usually. Even now, thinking about it gives me a pit in my stomach. Summer months are hard for me with depression for some reason. I’m a cool weather person…maybe it’s because I’m a cool person 😉 Kidding!! Anyway Mom…I’m going to sign off for now, but thank you for letting me talk to you. It’s helped. At least the anger part is gone. Love you Mom…I miss you.”
Yup…that’s what I’d say!