January 11, 2011

I'm learning that grief is a lot like having your first child - you really can't prepare for it.  I keep picturing certain days or events and preparing for how it'll feel, and then I find out what I prepared for is usually not what I feel on that day/event.  I thought Christmas would be the hard day, and instead New Year's Eve threw me for a loop.  I pictured being very emotional the first day I saw my mother's stone in the cemetary, and instead I felt really OK.  Every time I thought about going there, I'd get very emotional, but once I was there, it was like an ordinary moment.  I was more taken aback by my dad choosing to have his name & birth year on there than I was by seeing my mom's information.  I just kind shook my head and thought how I wouldn't want my own name on a stone until it was my time (no matter how normal it is for family members to have their name & birth info on a stone before their day comes), but also respecting my dad's choice to do so. 

There are also reactions I think I've moved past, only to find them sneak up on me again.  Shortly after Mom died, I had the typical reaction of wanting to call her after something happened only to then remember she was gone.  Yesterday, after at least a month of that not happening, it happened again.  Patience isn't one of my strong suits, and this is all a big lesson in learning it.  I've always had the least amount of patience with myself - I just want to be where I see myself, I don't want to do the work to get there.  There have been some bumps in the road, but overall, til now, I've led a pretty charmed existence.

I've been remembering a lot about my mom's idiosyncrasies.  The way she twiddled her fingers while pointing to what she wanted, or always finding a way to get me to hold her shopping bags while we were out together in the mall.  They all make me smile.  I can hear her laugh and voice and I'm so very glad for all the time I had with her.  And especially glad I was old enough to appreciate the time I had with her.  I'm not jealous of anyone that still has their mom.  I'm not mad, I don't say, "why me?".  I just miss her and I just get sad sometimes.  But I have these two little kids and they need me and we all have to move on and remember there are so many reasons to still be happy.   We have a Nor'easter coming our way tomorrow - there are snow angels to make and snowmen to build.  And Mom will be laughing at her grandchildren at play.

January 2, 2011

I'm healing again.  Christmas went a lot easier than I expected, but New Year's Eve through me for a loop.  Even though my husband very kindly took the morning shift with the kids and let me sleep in, I was grumpy.  I couldn't figure out why til the sadness creeped in.  New Year's wasn't a holiday I'd usually spent with my mom, so I figured it'd be an easier one to get through, and it turned out to be one of the hardest.  It just felt like ringing in the new year was a final way of leaving my mom behind and I just wanted to hold onto whatever I could.  I was happy again at midnight (thanks to some love & support from both my husband & my sister), but I was still surprised at how emotional the day was.

Today, I was able to go to my dad's house by myself to clean out some more stuff from my old bedroom and to hang out with my dad.  I also stopped by the cemetary to see my mom's stone (it was the first time I got to see it).  I had to plow through a little bit of snow and shovel my way out a little bit, but it was worth it to see the stone, touch it, and draw a heart in the snow for Mom.  The visit with my dad was even more helpful for me.  I was able to tell him how I feel, too, and get some unconditional love from him, too.  Originally, I thought my visit would be to help him out, but I think I got more help today than he did.  One of the things I love best about him is that we can tell each other the same stories over and over again and never get tired (and he gives great hugs).

My heart feels a bit better again.  I'm getting there.