Fine. I give in. Not give up. But give in. To the fact that my brain is not willing to work right now and that just has to be okay. Of course, it's really not surprising since it's only been two weeks since my mom passed away and one week since her memorial. I still HATE typing or saying those words. "My mom passed away..." How is that possible? How is that actually reality? Wasn't she just here with me a couple weeks ago? Going to the grocery store with me... going out to eat... going to the beach... chit chatting like we've always done about nothing and everything? Didn't I just hear her voice? Didn't I just laugh at her ridiculousness ordering things from QVC like a crazy person? How can this possibly be the way things are now? Where I'm not going to see her again or hear her talk again? Where I can't just call her up or text her about something as dumb as a TV show or as serious as a question about life? Yes, my eyes are filling up with tears as I type this and I'm holding them back cuz I'm sitting in Starbucks. I came out this afternoon thinking that leaving my house would be a good way to get all the work done that has been backing up in my inbox. A blessing... all the articles I've been assigned for the paper and a couple freelance projects that popped up too. Things that I normally enjoy doing. And since I did not go back to work this week, things that I should've been able to get done. Keyword being SHOULD'VE. Of course, if were going to talk about things that should've been, then my mom should've gotten better. She should've still been around to see me get married and have kids. Heck, she should've gone to the doctor when she first started having symptoms so she never would've gone through all this in the first place. Woulda, shoulda, coulda.
But instead of getting anything accomplished, I am just sitting at Starbucks staring off into space like a zombie just like I did at home. Except I'm drinking a salted caramel mocha while I do it here. I decided to blog because that's the only thing my brain WILL let me do right now, vent my feelings and my thoughts. Vent, vent, vent... that's all I've done on Facebook since this all happened and I can only hope I'm not going to drive all my virtual friends away with my posts. But that's the only thing I know to do right now. Vent, talk about my feelings, let myself feel them and wait. Wait for time to slowly heal what seems like an unhealable wound.
I know I'm not the only one to lose their mother and I won't be the last. I know other people have felt these same feelings before me and others will feel them after me. I can only hope that maybe somehow I will be able to help others that are going through this or will go through this and help myself cope in the meantime. It's an experience that you can't quite put into words unless you've experienced it. There's no simple way of summing it up... no adjective that completely describes the experience. Yes, it's sadness, loneliness, sorrow, emptiness, anger, hurt, frustration, anxiety, fear, exhaustion... but it's never any one combination of them at any one time. It comes in waves and it constantly changes from minute to minute. I can be "fine" and then suddenly remember something or see something and my whole mood will change. It's like I'm just along for the ride as my brain tries it's very hardest to wrap itself around this thing it's trying to comprehend.
I know that my mother would not want me to be sad. Of course she'd want me to be happy and living my life. She loved life and except for a few dark months before she was first diagnosed, she tried to live life to the fullest, especially after my dad passed away. And she always wanted the best for me. That's why her prayer jar was full of little slips of paper about me. It's not that she wanted any more for me than for my sister, but she worried about me more. We all knew it. She wanted to make sure that everything would work out okay for me. She was so happy that I had finally established a life here in NC and made so many new friends, had a church I loved and even started getting my writing career to really take off. That's why she didn't want me to come up to VA to be with her even though she was sick.
And of course I know all this too, in my heart. I know that I need to do all of these things for my mom and for myself. That I need to live every minute of my life to the fullest, because you don't indeed know how long you have. And because my sweet mom did run out of time and didn't get to make all her dreams come true. She didn't get to have her condo at the beach or her green VW Beetle convertible. And personally, I always hoped she'd find a nice man to date in her retirement years, someone to travel and spend time with. But none of that was to be. I don't understand it and I never will. Only God knows why she wasn't meant to do any of these things even though I wish she could've. She was such a wonderful person to everyone she met, she definitely deserved them all. And it makes my stomach ache and my eyes sting to think that she didn't get them, but that's life.
And this is my life now. To continue on without her and to try to do my best to live my life in a way that would make her proud. I want to jump out of bed in the morning and make all that happen right now. I want to bust out all these newspaper articles and projects and go to work every day. But I have to give in and admit, I can't. Not yet. My body and my brain need time to just BE. I don't understand what's going on in my head right now and I probably never will. Sure, there have been many books about the grieving process but what it all comes down to is, time heals all wounds. Time and God.
So I just have to take things minute by minute, day by day, and eventually I will be able to think "normally" again. And write, and work and play and all the other things we do in this crazy world. But if I have to sleep 12 hours a day in the meantime, so be it. I can't prove myself to anyone anyway so why bother trying? God's got this and He's got me and I can only do my best. One step at a time.