Sunday, July 6, 2008

What I'm feeling today (second edition)

I miss her. God, I miss her. I so wish she were still here.

I don’t cry every day anymore, but when I do cry it’s for hours at a time and it’s draining. I never know when it will hit or what will bring it on – yesterday it was because I thought about the fact that the tomatoes at my dad’s will be turning red soon, and fresh tomatoes were one of the things she loved about summer. She won’t be here to enjoy them with dad.

Their 59th wedding anniversary would have been last week (and let me tell you that my father was breaking my heart, as he misses her tremendously), and her birthday is coming up next week. The “year of firsts” is supposed to be the hardest, and we’ve been hit with some pretty big “firsts” in the time she’s been gone. Mother’s Day. Father’s Day. The girls' dance recital. Their anniversary. Husband and my 10th anniversary. Now her birthday is right around the corner. (Memorial Day and the 4th were in there too… but those aren’t something I usually associate with my parents. I think I stopped spending those holidays with them in college.)

Somehow I don’t imagine that it just sucks the first year. Her presence in this world was a strong one – sometimes too strong for me!! I fear I will always feel her missing.

She has been gone 10 weeks today.

It hurts like it was yesterday, but it feels like she’s been gone for so much longer. While some days now I start out strong, most days I still have a hard time managing even the smallest tasks to completion. My house is a disaster area, and my husband is a saint! He’s been holding our family together, really, since I was feeling so sick in February. He says that he is totally OK with this, and that he knows he’ll be holding things together for a while. I’m starting to feel pressure (from myself) that it’s time to pull myself together, but then I get anxiety from the pressure and it’s harder still to keep going. I try to push these feelings to the side and let myself deal with this slowly but I’m still overwhelmed a lot of the time. I try to remind myself that the housework will wait, the dust bunnies will breed, the weeds will flourish, and I will heal. Someday.

Because someday? It won’t be such a shock that she isn’t here anymore. (Yep, still "Stage I" of grieving.) It’s still a shock when I think about it. It isn’t something I’m “coming to terms with”, or “quietly accepting” yet. I’m sure I will miss her forever, but I’m looking forward to the day when it’s not as painful. When it’s not such a fresh wound on my soul. At the same time I hate the fact that someday it will be normal that my mother has died. I’m not interested in that being my new “normal”. That is the part I hate perhaps most of all.

10 comments:

Colleen O said...

Oh Dodi - it's 10pm on Sunday night and I want to walk over to your house and give you a big hug and bring you some chocolate . . .and a warm puppy. (Sorry to hear about Bo, too!)

You seem to be hanging on by your fingernails just beautifully - please let me know if I can do anything to help - and it's great that you can put your thoughts down. You do it so very well.

tz said...

Giant big hug your way!

Sitting in Silence said...

Huge cyber hug your way...I so wished we lived closer....

Thinking of you..

xoxoxox

Dodi said...

You guys are so nice to care. I mostly write these posts to get my feelings out... and I'm glad you guys aren't getting so sick of it you never stop by.

Hugs back to y'all.

ganelle said...

xoxo
OK, the xxs might be a bit creepy. I like you and all, but...
So, oooo

Vanessa said...

HUGS I'm so sorry you are hurting.

Martha said...

I thought of you Saturday night...as I sat on the couch, catching up with one of my WI friends...her mom and my mom were BEST friends (and now Kelly and I are friends...second generation friendship: gotta love it).

By about midnight she and I were sobbing about my mom...and I thought "crap, I just told Dodi it gets better, really it does". Nope, 20 years later, the hurt is there, different but there...as the tears still flow for there is nothing quite like a mother's love and to be a motherless daughter...that ache never quite goes away.

Oh crap, I'm supposed to be lifting you up...but really, my point is, you aren't alone...and we're always here for you (which is why Mr. Morrison is the saint that he is...his love for you is so deep, that picking up the slack just seems natural, ya know?)

We'll be home later this week: we'll meet at a REAL Starbucks, provide me with a Sex in The City tutorial, and just share those tears together, ok?

*is her birthday the 16th? I know it is close to my dad's, but can't remember if it is the same day.

Aimee said...

We all love you!

Deborah said...

Oh, Dodi. This isn't something you'll ever "come to terms with." Ever. Someone you love is gone and life will never be the same. I can tell you from experience that there will never be a day when it's not as painful, but you'll just process it a little differently.

Who is to say what is normal? As adults our world changes all the time. I guess you could say we want things to be the way they always were before.

Take care. Sending hugs.

Dodi said...

I appreciate all the support... I really do. I'm still wallowing in sorrow and I do hope that part of my grief gets a little more realistic!

Oh, and Ganelle? You KNOW you mean the X's. XXXXXOOO back at you! (Did you notice there were more x's than o's? Wink wink.)