Nothing lasts forever

This is all too apparent after the death of a loved one! When my first husband (sometimes it feels so odd saying this because I feel like Jim and I have been together a lifetime)died, I was so young. I processed the grief in such a different way. Mostly I just felt so bad for my two tiny boys(they were 2.5 and 5). Since it was a suicide, there was also anger for what I consider the most selfish act. It was horrible and now going through the loss of my Mother, I remember how hard it was.
My Mother has been gone 6 weeks. I had saved a message she left me the day after the man hit us in the head-on collision. It was 12/24. I have listened to her voice every day since her death, she is not there today. Messages do not last forever...just like loved ones... and I'm hopeful the pain you feel when you lose them.

Went for a trolley ride

On Saturday we went to the Aquarium as planned. We decided that we would walk over to the trolley and take a quick ride to get a bite. The boys met a friend. It is so amazing how easy friendship comes at this age, such open acceptance and instant fun! The family had a little boy James' age so the boys sat together and looked out the window. We hopped off on McKinney Ave and headed to Primo's. The food is not my favorite...
It got a bit chilly as it got dark so we rushed back to the trolley stop and were happy that the trolley was there quickly. On the trolley the conductor was chatting with Jim about how may cars just pull in front of him when~wham...we hit a car. It was not a hard impact on our end but it was very bad for the car. It meant we were stuck on the trolley for close to 2 hours. No one was injured, thank goodness.
This story in and of itself would be mildly interesting, but it ums up my life at the moment. WE went for a trolley ride and we ended up taking a 3 hour trip. Everything in my life seems far more complicated than planned. Things are all muddled up with thoughts of my Mom so they take hours and get completely confused...there is good in the day, but often the train wreck muddles it up.

Day 36

I have officially made it through nearly 36 days of life without my Mother. I can't imagine it. I still can't believe she is really dead but sometimes I try to convince myself of it.
"REALLY??" This is what pops into my mind at 5am, 7:30am, 9:20am, really anytime I stop to think it might be true. I cry and make mournful moaning sounds as I imagine that the answer must be "yes", when I really let myself believe it.
I say "my Mother is dead" to my husband as I yell at him that he is NOT being "there for me". I just feel so terribly alone.
Last weekend was hard. Sorting through her clothing and dealing with the drama that seems to accompany grief as we tried to work through the final steps in Austin. My Mom and I talked about how each of us(my siblings) might process her death. She thought I would be ok because I had cried and talked to her about missing her. I am NOT OK, Mom. I am so sad, you meant so much to me.
This is the only place I seem to be able to "talk" about how I feel. As I type this it is soulful and deep, when I talk it is very surface level. I do cry but mostly at night or in my car. I cannot seem to connect enough with anyone to say what I would to my Mom. She knew me and I could completely let go.
The day I left for Austin we got 12 inches of snow here in Dallas(a record). It was like a blizzarrd as we were leaving and really a scary drive:( The boys had a blast making a snow Robot(Gavin and Andrew) and then sledding on friday. Not often that the snow sticks around for more than a day.
I have worked at my store or at my Mothers for 15 days straight. I am off this weekend and plan to sleep late, get the boys a haircut and then head to the Dallas World Aquarium. On Sunday we are going to lunch with Jim's family.

Last night

I was on a screened in upstairs porch of an apartment watering plants with two people. There were 3 dogs on the porch with me, the dogs  ran down the stairs to a parking lot. A man helped catch the dogs and he and I were talking about my Mother being upstairs dying. He offered his help should we need it.
I went into the apartment and there were a lot of people, one was my grandmother, we were talking about the little cubbies in the headboard of a bed.
I walked over to my Mom, a woman was saying “you haven’t had milk in 2 weeks, why would you have it now?” I thought the milk was making my Mother feel bad. They gave her morphine(the drops she hated so much and refused to take while alive) and I said, “our goal is that she doesn't have any pain”. There had been some discussion before this but I can’t remember it.
I knelt down, my Mother was sitting, and put my head in her lap and on her arm. She touched my hair. I asked her, “could you hear us talking to you when you were dying?” Even in my dream this seemed an odd question because she did not seem dead, but she answered “yes I could hear you”.
She said “You look so pretty today” I looked at my sleeve thinking it was pink, but it was the sweater I wore to the funeral. She gave me that outfit and I chose to wear it that day because she really loved it. I wanted to say “You always look pretty”, but I woke up. In the dream it felt like the day she died…emotionally. I was crying.

I cried all night last night. I grabbed my phone, really wanting to call my Mom and tried to think of who else I could call, but it was the middle of the night.
I thought I was ok, but today I am back in the misery of grief. I guess I didn't really believe that it takes months to get back into a normal rhythm of life.

I spoke too soon!

"Normal" has not returned. Today is tough:(

Random thoughts

A thousand times must be the minimum of the times I've thought of my Mother since her passing almost 4 weeks ago. I'll be standing at the fridge or by the sink or folding clothes or hugging the kids. I was dancing with Gavin last week and just lost it.
Today I've pictured her standing in her backyard with hose in hand, spraying her plants. She has a sleevless blouse and shorts on and she looks at me as I walk out her back door. I must have seen my Mom like this hundreds of times in my adult life. It is a vivid image and yet so far away now.
I dreamed of her twice this week but lost the image when I woke up. I've tried all day to get it back, but it isn't here. I know she was there, though.
Life is getting more normal(if you can call life after you lose your Mom "normal"). When these images pop into my mind it stirs me and makes me wish and sometimes I cry for her. But, now, I know I will be ok...someday.

3 weeks

Three weeks this morning. I have to stop myself from phoning you just to be sure you really won't answer. The constant surprise is like reliving a moment that changed my whole existance over and over. I said last night to Jim "Can you really believe she died. How could she be dead?" and I meant it. How is it possible?...
I went to have coffe with my friend, Yvonne. Her daughter and Gavin are the same age and they played so sweetly while we talked about losing our Mom's. She lost her mother to Cancer as well so I feel a certain instant closeness to her that others outside this "club" would find hard to understand. It is nice to be doing normal things and talking on a rainy day, but the conversation seems to always turn back to you.
You are missed. I know you'd be happy that we think of you but sad that we are lonely. I think of some of the things you said when I was feeling so hopeless that last afternoon, "we've had alot of fun times together". I forgot to write that in my story of your last days. WE did have so many fun moments. I was thinking of the day we went to the last support group when you fell, I picked up the fuzzy jacket you wore and smelled it to find you, it did have your scent. It made me think of how we would have laughed when you fell in any other time, but you were too sick to find the humor that day and I was too scared, tired, confused to find it. The last months were so different but you remembered the laughter that last day.
I love you, Mom. I am working hard to process the grief and move forward.

"Oh, the sadness, again"

Sitting on the living room floor, sifting through a leather looking legal size envelope of my Mothers, I started to cry. Gavin was sitting with Daddy and said "oh, the sadness, again." He walked towards me, ready to give me a hug(kindof looking like he was bound by duty to hug his often crying Mommy) and I couldn't help but smile at him. He said " Oh I thought you were crying, Mama." I was but he he was so cute I had to smile through the tears. He hugged me.

Changes

Sunday night I was driving to pick up Jim. I just completely lost it and was screaming and crying. Sometimes I remember...she has died. It is always a shock.
It's like my body and mind forget that she's gone in order to carry on with my daily needs. This sense of normalcy is comforting in the moment but leads to desperate feelings of loss when I come face to face with the truth that she is gone.
I had a dream this morning that really sums it up. I fell asleep on the couch so I was in a half sleep sort of state while Gavin was watching Sesame Street. In my dream my Mom was far away and I was thinking that she might miss some event that was upcoming because she could not get back for it, I woke up confused. I was still processing my thoughts from my dream and as I was waking fully remembered that she is not on a trip far away but has died...forever. I thought to myself "She can't make it back for any events" and I was once again stunned by the shock.
In the book I am reading grief is referred to as a state of insanity, a manic depressive state that passes. I completely agree.