Wednesday, August 12, 2009


I've said before that writing this blog is cathartic for me. This is one of those days that statement is the most true.

I feel numb today. Four years ago today my mom passed away. For me, it was completely unexpected. I knew she hadn't been feeling well, was even using a wheelchair, but I didn't know how bad it really was. Everyone seems to have differing opinions about this. Generally, she wouldn't tell me how bad off she really was and I want to believe it is because she didn't want me to worry about her. She was allowed to worry about me, but I wasn't allowed to worry about her.

There are five stages to the grieving process and I seem to be stuck somewhere between two and four. I'm not sure I was ever in stage one, which is denial. For me, her death happened so suddenly that I didn't really have the chance to figure out what had happened. Death is final, you can't deny that. Stage two is anger, three is bargaining, and four is depression. I don't know that I will ever be in stage three. I can't really bargain her back...again, death is final. Stage two and stage four, though....that's where I am.

Anger? Yep. I go back and forth being angry at God. I believe in God. I was raised to believe in God. I believe what the Bible says about God, about everything. Right now, although I believe I kind of don't care. As irrational and "wrong" as it may be, I am angry at God. Sometimes my anger reaches the rage level. I don't even care if people read this and judge me for it anymore. And DO NOT tell me you understand unless you've been through it. I am also sometimes angry with my mom. I've had people tell me that she missed my Nana (her mom) so much and she wanted to be with her again. When I think about that, and I think that maybe she gave up and just didn't want to be well and wanted to die, I get mad at her. Wasn't I good enough? Wasn't my dad good enough? What about my brother? What about his new little boy? When I reach thinking about my nephew, though, I think about the pictures that I have of when he was born and my mom was holding her first grandchild and I think that there is NO WAY she gave up. She was thrilled with him, you can tell when you look at the pictures. He was her angel and she loved him so much. I can't really believe she would want to leave us. I can't because that crushes my heart.

Depression is stage four and I seem to bounce back and forth between this and anger. I feel immensely guilty when I am angry at my mom. I also feel an enourmous amount of guilt because the summer that she died was the first summer I didn't go home. I had been angry at her and my dad because they hadn't come to visit me. My dad had won a trip at work and they could have gone anywhere in the country. Instead of coming to visit me, they went to San Diego. (Now, there is some background there, lest you think I am THAT selfish. By then, I had lived up here for about 11 years. They had only visited me once in all that time and only because my brother was graduating from boot camp and even then, they only stayed a few days. My mom hated to fly and even getting the chance to see me wasn't enough to get her on a plane.) I was upset by that and I didn't go home. I had planned on going home for Christmas that year, though. Well, I guess the "joke" was on me, so to speak, because I ended up going home that summer after all.

I miss her. I miss her so much sometimes it is hard for me to function. This year is especially difficult because I realized, about the middle of July, that I don't remember her voice anymore. This has hit me really hard. I don't have any recordings or home movies or anything like that. There are times when all I want is to talk to her one more time. I think about her all the time. Not a day passes when I don't think about her and I have to will myself not to cry. Someone recently told me that I should think about what she would want. Would she want me to be sad or to be happy, living my life, making her proud of me? They were right, of course, and I know that. I know she would be proud of me, of what I have accomplished. Thinking about that helps, and I was appreciative of the advice. I doubt that stop my tears, at least not now, though. I don't know how long it takes to get to stage five...acceptance. I also am not sure I know what that means. I accept the fact that she is gone; I know she isn't coming back. I guess for me, stage five will be more peace than acceptance.

I am grateful for my friends and family. I know I have people to talk to, when I need to talk. I don't like be "forced" to talk about things when I'm not ready and most people that I know understand that. I guess blogging about it is my way of talking about it. Putting my feelings out there in a way that is most comfortable for me. If you feel the need to judge me for it, so be it.

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