Tag: grief

What if it’s me?

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So now that moms funeral has past, things are kinda resolved a bit. Or at least I thought they were. I’m actually having a lot of anxiety about the relationship I had with mom and how I perceived it. I perceived it as we were friends. I talked to her twice a day. She was going to move up here and live with us in a few years. But she never told my sisters (whom she lived with) about that plan. She said she didn’t want to stir up drama and God would work it out. But now I’m thinking what if she just didn’t want to tell ME she didn’t want to move in?

Also the phone calls. I called her twice a day. That’s pretty needy. I thought she liked it. If I missed a call, she’d call me to see what was up (or to rag me on skipping work cause if I didn’t call in the morning, she totally knew I was skipping work). However, whenever sister 2 would call while mom was here, she’d roll her eyes ’cause sister 2 will call in a crisis or wasted and keep you on the phone for over and hour before you can get off. You’ll talk in circles for 45 minutes and just be dying to get off the phone. Did mom roll her eyes every time I called?

She told me she and sister 1 never talked. And sister 1 was mean to her in my opinion. She treated her like she was old and getting senile (she wasn’t). I feel like sister 1 gaslighted her a lot and made her feel like shit. But now that she’s dead, sister 1 is in hysterics that her best friend and her “person” are gone. But dude, you treated mom like slave labor. You weren’t nice to her. You talked about how she was getting too old to do some things IN FRONT OF HER like she was some senile old dog. I wanted her to move in with me to get away from you.

However, it seems we all thought mom was “our person” and our friend. Which I guess you shouldn’t play favorites with your kids. That’s fine. But I thought what I had with mom was different and special. And now I feel like maybe she lied to me. Like maybe I wasn’t special at all. Like maybe she didn’t like my calls all the time. Maybe she never intended to move here. Did she lie to me? Was I wrong? Was I just the 4th kid she had to treat with kid gloves because I’m just as crazy as my sisters?

I don’t know and I’m devastated at the thought. And I can’t make it right. I can’t apologize and have a better relationship with her. I thought we had the perfect relationship though. Was I wrong? This is horrible.

A new chapter

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Mom’s funeral was Monday. The service was perfect, the flowers were beautiful, there was no family drama. It was more than I could have hoped for. She would have loved it.

I took down the Christmas decorations in her room today. She would have never left them up this long. It would have been decorated for Valentines by now. I did not decorate it for Valentines Day. However, I did change out the Christmas for her bright orange and teal quilt. The cats favorite chair changed from a Christmas throw and pillow to a more summery combination.

It’s funny. When we take down Christmas in the house, it always seems so much colder and more sterile. Moms room doesn’t. It still feels comfy cozy.

I do feel a small sense of closure. Like healing can start now. Waiting over a month to hold the funeral was a heavy stress on all of us. Now it feels like the page has turned to a new chapter. Your favorite character just died but you keep reading.

Trying to keep my cool

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So mom’s funeral is Monday. This is my off Friday, so when I filled out my time card, I went ahead and entered bereavement leave for the funeral next week. I almost burst into tears.

I love time off. I hate working and in particular I hate my current job (don’t worry, I have something in the pipeline for May). So missing work is awesome. And free PTO? Sign me up! But bereavement leave… for my momma? I don’t want this. Not like this. I’ve joked about using bereavement leave in the past for my father because I’m a terrible human being — but my momma?

I guess it’s strange things that can trigger grief. K gave me a card I knew was from old coworkers with condolences and I didn’t even open it until I got home. Couldn’t afford to cry on my lunch break.

K said shes coming to the funeral. K, you so don’t need to drive two hours to come. I wont be able to see you and even if I did, I couldn’t give you the big hug you deserve and cry on you cause she was my momma. I’m crying as I type this. I’m so glad you at least knew her a little bit. I was so blessed to have such wonderful relationship with mom and I’m so blessed to have you as a best friend.

Alright, I’m gonna go hug the cat.

Heavy Sighs

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Missing mom is weird.  It’s been three weeks since we last spoke.  The last time we’d ever speak in this life.  I keep catching myself going “I’m gonna show this to mom” or “I haven’t called mom yet!” or getting up late and thinking “moms gonna rag me for sleeping so late and being late to work.”  I’m making mental notes about things I’ll tell her or talk to her about when we next talk.  I miss that connection and that outlet. 

But I’m not broken.  I’d never think I would handle her death this well.  I certainly didn’t expect it.  We were going to build mom an addition to our house.  I had it completely planned out and drawn up in sketches here or there.  We’d discussed it.  She wanted one of those step in tubs.  She’d have her own kitchenette.  It was going to mirror the dining room bay windows size and shape by the pool.  Creating a kind of courtyard.  She’d have her own home entrance and foyer on the side of the house.  And when we built it making a hallway through the storage room, I’d build in a closet for all that shit in the downstairs hall.  And there would be a wooden deck between the back doors.  I’d imagined I’d find her there a lot in the morning having coffee and tending her plants.

I miss her and I weep.  But it doesn’t feel like a massive Greek Tragedy that I think it should feel like.  The way it seems to be for the rest of my family.  They can’t talk about her without crying.  Can’t look at photos of her.  I like the memories the photos hold.  I don’t mind looking though them.  She always looked happy.  It makes me remember the trips and who took that photo.  I just ordered a 20×30 print of her sitting in a window looking out over the Fox Theater in Atlanta when I took her to see Third Days final concert tour.   I had planned to have her sign it or something.  But she won’t be here to sign it.  However, I will still have it hanging by my side of the bed.  Mom forever looking happily out the window. 

My family won’t even let me post the memorial date and time.  They’re “too upset” and “not ready.”  I don’t understand.  We’ve planned the memorial.  We’re having it, why is it weird to tell people when it is?  I completely don’t get it.  K said that maybe I’m just more in touch with my feelings and they’re not so they can’t look past themselves right now.  I can see that being true.  But shouldn’t I be more broken?  They’re all fucking puddles of tears over there.  Am I too medicated, perhaps?  Too many antidepressants?  Do I WANT to be more sad?  Should I be?  I just don’t know.  

I’ll never give her that house of her own.  We’ll never sit on the tanning ledge together again.  I imagine opening the pool this year with her gone will be a very difficult thing for me.  She loved my pool so much.  She’ll never sign the window portrait for me.  I can’t take her on a trip to a place she’s never been.  Or even a trip to a place she has been.  What will Florida be like without mom?  How will it be without her being awake before everyone having coffee on the balcony?  That’s just weird.  Should we even go?  Mom was the one who worshipped the Florida trip.

Yet I don’t feel like there are loose threads.  I don’t feel the carpet unraveling beneath me.  She had a better life than I’d even realized.  She touched so many people.   She knew I adored her and would do whatever I could for her.  I know she adored me and would do anything for me. 

I only had three touch stones.  Mr C, Mom, and my cat.  Mom was the strongest bond and now it’s lost.  And the cats in kidney failure.  And Mr C has his games. 

I keep thinking of when I worked on tanks.  “Always have three points of contact with the tank.”  Your ass, your hands, your feet, your stomach – just have at least 3 places of contact with your body and the tank at all times.  Don’t fall and break your ass on the company’s dime.  No standing willy nilly on the tanks – put your ass down.    

I had three points of contact with the Earth, life, whatever you want to call it.  And now one’s gone and one’s going.  Will I fall? I’m certainly not following directions.   I’ve never had good balance.  What will happen to me?  What will happen when I’m balancing on one foot and that foot has a bad day and just wants to play his games and be left alone?  Do I just go play Animal Crossing?  I get on every night to get my money tree and see if that bitch owl shows up.  But I’ve got over 6 million bells in the bank and she never gives me anything good anyway.  Fucking owl.