miss you, mom.
I don't know what to write here anymore because anything I think to write falls in one of two categories: 1) totally insignificant now (though I probably would not have viewed it that way 6, even 3 months ago) or 2) soul-crushingly heart breaking, which is sort of where I've been for the past few weeks. I am made of missing; the motherless child I am now misses her 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. There are scant waking hours in which I do not have at least a passing thought about my mom and our family's loss or a completely rude awakening. My most recent one was on Thursday evening, as I left town to drive north to Wisconsin. I was passing through a familiar part of my drive, during which I used to talk to my mom on the phone frequently while I drove that road. I suddenly thought, "Oh! I should call Mom and tell her I am on my way" and just as suddenly remembered I couldn't, which was just as raw a recollection as any moment during her diagnosis, illness, and dying.
On top of that, I have Projection Missing, too. Missing her makes me miss a million other things and people in my life. I miss my cousins, I miss my friends in Wisconsin, I miss my dad, I miss my aunts and uncles, I miss my friends elsewhere, I miss my grandparents, I miss Madison, I miss Tucson, I miss people I have no business missing. It's a little like my heart made room for this giant hole and my emotions are like, "Hey! Hole! Let's throw all these places and people in there, too!"
The only two things I feel like I know about grief, on this side of it, are that grief will make you feel like you're going crazy, and that it could get much worse before it gets better. Oh, people told me that this kind of loss would make me feel like I was going crazy, but I did not believe them. I was lulled into a very false sense of okayness for the first 4 weeks or so after my mom died. I got back into my working routine, had enough to occupy me most of the time, and generally thought that if the sadness I'd felt was the worst it was going to get, I'd make it through pretty well. In fact, I nearly posted here several times that I'd read everything I could about grief and still didn't know how to do it. I don't feel that way now, obviously. Y'all, I changed my mind THREE TIMES about when I was going to go to Madison in February. And not only did I change my mind three times, I had to get coverage for that day three times, too, from a very understanding co-worker. I am not, as many of you know and understand, an indecisive person. I have a decision at the ready for almost anything, and probably a few opinions, too. The indecision that suddenly swamped me last month is only a small part of "oh my god, I'm going crazy" feeling, but an example nonetheless.
I guess I know a third thing about grief, too. In a book I read, the authors said that people tend to grieve in the way they live--either introvertedly or extrovertedly. I have always been a private person, but the older I get the more I trend towards introversion when it comes to interaction with other people. And I can say this is true, almost all of my grieving since the funeral has been private and out of public view, even from my closest friends and family members. I have an aunt that I cannot bear to call back, or even e-mail back, right now because I know I will not make it through the conversation without crying. I also couldn't bear to see one of my mom's closest friends when I was home, though I know that she would have welcomed the opportunity. I have a very (VERY) small circle of people whose calls I will actually answer or return and whom I can even work up the desire to be around right now and sometimes that circle changes on a daily basis. For all my introversion on top of all of the missing, this makes me feel a little crazy, too.
But I do know I need to keep writing, even if it isn't all here. There are so many memories and vignettes, both of my mom's life, and of her last few months and days with us that float around in my head. Some of them have never been shared with another person, but need to be released and re-told nonetheless and I need, need to begin reconciling the relationship I once had with her with the fact that one that no longer exists, in a physical and emotional way, at all.
On top of that, I have Projection Missing, too. Missing her makes me miss a million other things and people in my life. I miss my cousins, I miss my friends in Wisconsin, I miss my dad, I miss my aunts and uncles, I miss my friends elsewhere, I miss my grandparents, I miss Madison, I miss Tucson, I miss people I have no business missing. It's a little like my heart made room for this giant hole and my emotions are like, "Hey! Hole! Let's throw all these places and people in there, too!"
The only two things I feel like I know about grief, on this side of it, are that grief will make you feel like you're going crazy, and that it could get much worse before it gets better. Oh, people told me that this kind of loss would make me feel like I was going crazy, but I did not believe them. I was lulled into a very false sense of okayness for the first 4 weeks or so after my mom died. I got back into my working routine, had enough to occupy me most of the time, and generally thought that if the sadness I'd felt was the worst it was going to get, I'd make it through pretty well. In fact, I nearly posted here several times that I'd read everything I could about grief and still didn't know how to do it. I don't feel that way now, obviously. Y'all, I changed my mind THREE TIMES about when I was going to go to Madison in February. And not only did I change my mind three times, I had to get coverage for that day three times, too, from a very understanding co-worker. I am not, as many of you know and understand, an indecisive person. I have a decision at the ready for almost anything, and probably a few opinions, too. The indecision that suddenly swamped me last month is only a small part of "oh my god, I'm going crazy" feeling, but an example nonetheless.
I guess I know a third thing about grief, too. In a book I read, the authors said that people tend to grieve in the way they live--either introvertedly or extrovertedly. I have always been a private person, but the older I get the more I trend towards introversion when it comes to interaction with other people. And I can say this is true, almost all of my grieving since the funeral has been private and out of public view, even from my closest friends and family members. I have an aunt that I cannot bear to call back, or even e-mail back, right now because I know I will not make it through the conversation without crying. I also couldn't bear to see one of my mom's closest friends when I was home, though I know that she would have welcomed the opportunity. I have a very (VERY) small circle of people whose calls I will actually answer or return and whom I can even work up the desire to be around right now and sometimes that circle changes on a daily basis. For all my introversion on top of all of the missing, this makes me feel a little crazy, too.
But I do know I need to keep writing, even if it isn't all here. There are so many memories and vignettes, both of my mom's life, and of her last few months and days with us that float around in my head. Some of them have never been shared with another person, but need to be released and re-told nonetheless and I need, need to begin reconciling the relationship I once had with her with the fact that one that no longer exists, in a physical and emotional way, at all.
posted by Alison Inaz @ 4:50 PM
6 comments
