Honestly Probably Mostly Dogs

Why do a feel like a big ol’ baby for being sad that my mom died? 

Something hit me like a ton of bricks last night and has been sitting on my chest ever since. I cried before bed, I cried in my sleep, I cried in my dreams, I cried when I woke up and while I took Adam to school and while a brushed my teeth and it turns out you can cry and swallow coffee at the same time.

Yesterday afternoon when I was driving I was thinking of people’s parents and it struck me that I will meet new people in my life who never knew my mom and will never know my mom. I’ll meet people who don’t know my mom is dead and I’ll have to tell them. They’ll ask me if my parents live in Louisville and I’ll have to say something like, I don’t even know what. My dad lives over by Churchill Downs? And if I leave it at that it will seem weird. My dad lives over by Churchill Downs and my mom… My mom passed away in 2013? My mom is “no longer with us”…? My mom has been gone for a few years now?

I have gone off on a few people lately and I can’t tell if there just happens to be a lot of people making me mad all at once lately or if I’m more prone to telling people off right now. I asked Joe last night if I seem angry or like I’m acting like an a-hole lately. He said I seem a little less patient/tolerant, a little less logical (which is really saying something for me), and a little sadder. But he explained that he hasn’t been too worried because it’s probably normal. “Your mom died.” 

I was thinking, oh my god, how could you say that?? But… yeah, it’s true. I need to find my little grief book because the first chapter is about acknowledging. Man, I don’t want to. But I guess I have to.

It’s only been 16 days. 

IIIII IIIII IIIII I

I should be more patient with myself. I don’t know how to do this! For days I’ve been “fine,” meaning I haven’t cried. I’ve gone about my regular business. I’ve told people off, I’ve gone to work, I’ve played softball and played music and scheduled things and read things. Is this denial?

Whatever hit me yesterday is awful. Is this acknowledgment? 

Last night I heard about the tornado and thought about whether anyone’s mom was killed.

Saturday afternoon I met a friend & bandmate’s mom for the first time at our gig. She is older than my mom was. I think she’s in her 70s. She uses a walker. It was sunny and warm and we were chatting and she asked if I knew where she could get some water - whether the service station next to us had a convenience store. I said no, but I think you can get some over at that bar.

Someone else came up to talk to her so I dashed over to get her a cup of water and brought it back and gave it to her. It felt SO FUCKING GOOD to be taking care of a mom again, just for a second.

The chapstick in my purse is still the one my mom tried to eat when I handed it to her shortly after her second stroke. The smell is what I put on her lips when they were dry.

I just want her back so bad. I want her back the way she was before she was sick. But if I could have her back sick, just for an hour, oh my god I would love her so much. I wouldn’t let go of her. That would be so selfish. She was miserable being sick. But she really really wanted to live. She was not ready to die. She wanted to keep fighting through the most miserable treatments.

By the time we realized the end was near, she could not speak. We could not say goodbye to each other. She could not tell me anything she might want me to know. I could only talk to her and wonder if I was saying the right things. I talked to her while she died. I don’t know if she could understand me.

I love you mom. Barry loves you, and Michael loves you, and I love you, and everyone loves you. And we’re really sorry you couldn’t be with us for longer but we know you have to go, and we’ll be ok. We’ll watch out for each other. Thank you for being such a good mom, and for loving me, and for taking such good care of me and for being so awesome. 

And as she got closer to death is was just

I love you mom I love you I love you so much you’re doing so good mom you are being so brave and I love you I love you I love you so much mom I love you

Jesus.

I always cry when I write these things. Writing helps me feel my feelings.

I have to pull myself together and go to work. 

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{Note: I don’t have a blog any more - I haven’t blogged since cancer treatment - but I feel like I need to get some things out of my system about mom’s passing. These posts will be personal and possibly tedious for anyone who isn’t me. I won’t be offended if you skip it.}

I’ve tried and tried, and succeeded only in tiny bits at a time. I don’t think I’m going to be able to concentrate on anything until I get some writing done about my sweet mama, who left this earth 9 days ago.

I’m a researcher by nature. Reading and learning is how I approach problems. So naturally I looked up grief to try to understand what to expect. And it’s basically like “blah blah blah, it’s different for everyone.” 

Here’s what I know: I’m exhausted. I can sleep all day and want to sleep some more. I can get tons and tons of sleep, healthy food, fresh air, sunshine, exercise… and I’m still exhausted to the point where sometimes it feels like too much energy to even stand up and walk around. Jen says she learned in her chaplain residency that it’s a normal symptom of grief.

I know that I’m an extrovert, which means I get my energy from other people. So maybe it wasn’t a great idea to work from home Monday and Tuesday this week. But it felt so daunting to try to get up and get dressed to be somewhere. I thought I might be more productive at home. I don’t know, but I’m going back to work tomorrow.

I can’t focus. I can’t concentrate on anything. I get so easily distracted. I can’t seem to get anything done that requires more than a few minutes of thought at a time. I’m trying to be patient with myself but I have a lot of responsibilities and I’m used to being more productive.

I know myself, we’ve been through a lot together. I feel like I’ll know when to go see someone if it comes to that. I have a book coming in the mail that may help too. And it’s not the kind of grieving I expected. I’m not crying all the time. I only cry maybe once or twice a day. I don’t know if it’s because I’m distracting myself from my feelings (which I know I tend to do) or if they’re so overwhelming that my mind is only letting them come a little at a time.

I feel alienated by grief support stuff that’s all about god and jesus. God called your mom home. He is holding her and all that. All your dead relatives are together in heaven. It’s just not useful to me because I don’t believe that way. I’m glad for people who do, though. It seems like it would be a comforting way to think about things.

I feel alienated too by folks who think they feel my mom everywhere - that she talks to them and tells them things. Of course my mom is with me. She’s in my mind and my memory and my heart. Do I believe she’s sending me secret messages? If I get a hunch to look for a lost item in a certain place and it’s there, was she showing it to me? That’s what her husband would say. He’s constantly on about feeling her spirit and her telling him what’s meant to be. 

He’s also constantly texting me about how sad he is. Random times of the day. I might be eating or driving or even laughing. And the messages come. Like pressing on a sore spot. I feel his grief. I do. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a spouse. I can’t imagine going back to that house every night, where she lived, full of her things. It must be awful. But I lost my mom, too.

I replay our last moments together over and over. Not on purpose, my brain just keeps going back there. Room 610. the 1 o’clock hour. Tears. Sweat. Breath. No breath. 

I gotta try to get some work done.

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