In a few more weeks, it will be a year since Mom…
One whole year. 365 days.
365 days of HER absence.
365 days of craving her touch, voice, sound, advice. Damn, just the feel of her skin beneath mine. Of craving HER.
365 days of pain. Numbing, crushing debilitating pain, loneliness, the feeling of being an emotional cripple, of the world caving in on you, feeling lost & incapable, drowning in a black hole of your own thoughts..
365 nights of tears and terrorizing dreams. 365 days of not wanting to get out of bed. Of alcohol numbed nights, of pacing-through-the-house-nights, of wanting-to-scream-your-guts-out nights, of wanting-to-call-someone-up just to cry nights. Yes, grief is all the seven stages and every single cliché in the book..
365 days of changing equations. Of disappearing family members, of missing friends, of feeling abandoned, of conversations that people rather not have, of people simply being assholes, of being a motherless daughter, of mothering your own Dad, of wanting for someone to care, of knowing that no one ever would again, as she did..
365 days of anger. At the unfairness of it all. Anger at your loss, and also hers. Anger at yourself for failing her when she needed you, and continuing to even after she’s gone. Anger at the world for going on as if not even a speck was out of place. Anger at those who keep asking you “to move on”, because whatever the fuck does it even mean? Anger at others for still having their families intact, their loved ones around. Hatred of everyone older than her and still alive. Bitterness towards anyone having an easier life. Shame at yourself for being so damn petty and selfish, not being stronger/ magnanimous/ kind/ understanding/ practical/ calmer/ less angry/ more/ better. Like her..
365 days of despair. Of knowing that you will never be whole again. Of knowing that the innocence of life, it’s wholesomeness, is forever lost to you. Of trying, trying hard to be okay with this “new normal”. Of knowing what your life could have been, and what it will never be again..
365 days of vacuum. Of stories only she could have heard and understood. Of spaces only she could have filled. Of things only she could have said and done and been. Only her..
365 days of missing mom. 365 days of missing myself. Missing myself as her daughter, as a daughter.
And a lifetime to go…