Not a speaker review

So I bought a bluetooth speaker for the pool. Nothing extravagant, just a little speaker. I was going to write my review for it here. I’m trying to get a post AND an Amazon review out of my reviews. However, this one would start rather depressingly if I were honest. Not exactly good for the helpful votes. See I bought the speaker, because I’m lonely.

I’ve said many times that mom was my pool buddy. I’ve been worried about missing her a lot so one thing I did was buy the speaker. That way I could have music by the pool. And it works. It’s less lonely singing along to my Pandora station while I float around. But I still miss mom. And yet, I feel I don’t miss her enough.

I suppose it could be massive amounts of antidepressants, of course. But I feel like I’m just not sad enough. Yet, there is an infinite sadness if I stop long enough to look for it. It’s so weird. It’s like I don’t miss her in my day to day. My day to day goes on. I do what I do. It’s like life has not changed (even though, rationally, it has) — like she was just deleted all of the sudden. Like maybe she was never there — just *poof* gone.

There doesn’t seem to be an intrinsic piece of evidence of her existence. Sure there’s pictures and her room and her urn… But those are only evidence someone existed. They’re evidence a human was here. Of course I had a mother. Bot there’s not evidence that SHE was here. That that special person I had was here. And I feel like my continuing on day to day without more mourning than I have is a injustice to her. Like an insult. Like she can be replaced by a radio.

There’s no epic conclusion. I don’t have some wrap-up planned here. Much like life, this post doesn’t really end. It’s just me blabbering about.

Grief is weird. And there’s no one to point me in the right direction.