I meant to post this past Tuesday, but was a bit too emotional to do it.
Tuesday marked the eleven year anniversary of my mother's death. People say that time heals all wounds, and that things get easier as time goes on. Apparently the people who said that either never had anything bad happen, or just never lost their mom at a young age.
It isn't that every day is a mess and a struggle - though some are - it's that the older I get, the more I wish I had my mother. I see friends and family members have their moms around and not realize how lucky they are for it. The older I get, and the closer to (hopefully) finding someone, getting married, having a family, the more it kills me that I won't have my mom there to see all of it. It makes me mad that if I ever have kids, she won't know them, and they won't know her. It should get easier with time, but it doesn't. Reality smacks me in the face a few times a year, and I have to break down and cry. The anniversary of her death, her birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving.
Some of my friends have great-grandparents. I can't even imagine. All I have in my family tree above me is my dad (I have aunts and uncles - but I am referring to my direct line). My mom's parents died when I was 9 and 13. I never knew my dad's parents. Great-grandparents? Long gone. I guess it scares me to realize that if anything happened to my dad, I'd not only be an orphan (are adults orphans? Because I would feel like it), but I'd be the oldest generation in my little family - a thought that frightens the hell out of me.
On Tuesday, I posted on my facebook that it was the anniversary and that I was sad about it, and that people who have moms should give them an extra hug. I called my dad later that night (I always call him on October 11th, and never ever bring up my mother. I never know if he realizes that that is why I am calling, because I can't let the day go by without hearing his voice, or if he thinks it is some strange coincidence, or what). At the end of our conversation, he told me he had seen my facebook (leave it to my dad to start figuring out how to use facebook a week or two ago). He told me that he wanted to leave a comment, but couldn't. Because it still hurts too much to write about or talk about. I don't know if I have been self-absorbed in my pain all of these years, or just trying hard not to remind anyone else of how bad it hurts to lose her. I can't talk to my family, because I am an emotional mess about it, and feel like an idiot for it. And well, we're all emotional folks, and I don't really want to drag them down this emotional road with me. But, there it is. I miss her. Every single day, I miss her. And honestly, I think it is only going to get worse, when I have babies, or when I get married and realize she isn't there to see me in my dress, or to hold her grand-babies.
I know that everything happens for a reason, and I can see little things in my life that wouldn't be this way if she was still here (I never would have gone so far from home. Tennessee? Would never have lived that far from my mom). But damn. Sometimes it's really hard to see how this makes any sense. Sometimes I find myself waiting for the director to yell "CUT!" and for her to pop back in. "Okay, that idea for your life was a crappy one. Let's go back to when you were fifteen, and not have your mom get cancer. We think that would be a better plot-line for your life."
Yeah, I think so too.
Miss you, mom...