It has been almost four weeks since my mom passed away. I have cried every day for six weeks, usually in the morning, but not always.
It's okay though. Sometimes I am crying because I am mad: it seems so unfair that she had to die. Some days I cry because I remember a time when I could have taken better care of her. Mostly I cry because I miss her so much and I know I will never see her again.
I talk to her though, and when I do it's as though I can hear her in my mind, telling me exactly what I know she would tell me. This should make me feel better, but instead I just cry harder.
This grief is like nothing I have ever experienced. I feel like the shoreline, slowly being stripped away and changed with each passing wave. Every day is a flood of memories, both good and bad, full of useless "what ifs" and "whys." My mind is a train and I can only sometimes switch the tracks, and then I can go to work or talk to another person. At home alone, I have no respite. I wash the dishes, fold the clothes, sweep the floor and all the while my mind is barreling down the track.
So my husband and I try to go to the river every day, we snuggle with our little kitties and take walks and in general try to be kind to ourselves. We let ourselves cry and we give ourselves time, but we pick ourselves back up and try to move on. I think Mom would be proud of us and how we are handling ourselves even if every day I cry and say "I love you, Mom," and I don't know if that will ever stop.
No comments:
Post a Comment