So it's officially been two months since my mom died from breast cancer. At this time two months ago, I was in the middle of making phone calls to other family members and the hospice care people and digesting what happened. I remember feeling very calm for most of this and offering to make the calls so my dad could have a few last moments with my mom. I remember feeling that I needed to be strong so I could do this for him. I would cry in short jags and the few people there when she passed gave great support.
The whole night was surreal. I'm so glad I was there at the house when she passed and was able to participate in all the after-death rituals. In a lot of ways, what happened that night was very magical.
And here we are 2 months later and I'm decorating my house for Christmas and I'm missing my mom very much. Cancer sucks.
