My sister texted me yesterday that she has been driving past moms house weekly to see how it looks – we are both still coming to grips with her sudden passing away from a heart attack on July 7th.
I hate when people say your grief will get better. No it doesn’t. You move on, but your heart never truly heals. A part of it will always be missing, especially when the person that you lost was very close to you. I had a complicated relationship with mom but she still was my mom. After dad died, she WAS the only parent. And even though we were very different and didn’t agree with a lot of each others choices, she still was always there for me when I needed her. I could call her and know she would listen. Now that is gone. Forever. Parentless at 36 years old. It feels weird. A club that I never intended to join.
There is no one size fits all with grief. When I walked into moms house the first time after her death I saw all the grandkids photos on her piano and I started balling. The meals on wheels ladies stopped by to talk to us and said she would talk about the kids daily. She was so proud to have them. Yet she never called to talk to Bryce. She never called me to say she was so happy I was a mom. Yet she was playing show and tell with the photos we gave her. She did care. I lost it.
The other hard part of the week was seeing her at the funeral home. A hard thing for anyone. But I hadn’t seen her since Christmas. She was so withered. So frail. I had NO idea it was that bad. I knew she was trying to make it sound better than it really was when I talked to her, but seeing her lying there I knew she had to have suffered at the end. I felt bad. Guilty. All the complex feelings we face with our loved ones, staring me down at 10 AM on a Wednesday. I lost it.
I guess what I am trying to say is right now I am hurting. But I am not giving up. I know life will move on, and the pain will dull. I am trying to concentrate on what I DO have and what my future COULD be.