I don’t write about my Mom a lot. It’s too emotionally hard. But lately I’ve been thinking about her and crying, a lot. When I think about her I get a warm nice feeling, as I remember doing stuff with her when I was a little kid – especially our summers at the cottage together, and it’s nice.
When I miss her not so much.
The past few nights, I feel like I’ve been ripped in half with missing her, and I’m bawling my head off. I may be 45 and functioning reasonably well as an adult, but in my head I”m a 13 year old, screaming “I miss my Mommy.” Naturally when I cry, even though I’m screaming inside, I’m totally silent, because when I was 13, I couldn’t really cry – I had to function. I think I may finally beginning to deal with the grief, I couldn’t handle as a kid.
The fall is a hard time for me emotionally – something I only connected to her death, in the past 10 years.
In late September she was told that the cancer was back and she refused further treatment.
In October she was basically home dying. I remember sitting on her bed talking to her when she was too weak to get up, and playing the piano for her, when she was strong enough to lie on the couch.
She died in Nov. I can never remember the exact date – I always have to look it up. Sometimes dissociation is a wonderful thing. Sometimes not so much. All I knew, until I made the connection was that each November I got suicidal. At least now I know the cause so it’s not quite as unmanageable.
So, now, since I’ve stopped drinking, I typically try to do something nice that reminds me of her, in a good way, on the anniversary of her death. Since we cooked and baked a lot together, I’ll probably bake something.
And keep crying.