My mother... myself.

I don't think anyone can really prepare you for the death of your mother. Not even my own mother who had been preparing us for the past 10 years. She had made sure that we knew her time was near but  her willingness to go didn't really soften the reality of her exit from this world and into the next. When she is gone, she is gone, and there is nothing you can really do about it.  My mom was kind of like that. Spontaneous, abrupt, impatient. People try to comfort you with their messages of "she is in a better place" or "she was ready to go". Awkward conversations start with "I'm really sorry to hear about your mom". What do you say? What can you say? "Thanks, yeah, she is in a better place". All so thoughtful, but really there isn't anything anyone can say or do to change that fact that your life is permanently changed for ever.

When my mom died I was surprised just how often waves of emotion overcame me, and engulfed the very depth of my soul.  Afterall, she had prepared us so well. The moments of regret, sadness, dispair, regret, so very overwhelming, and so very exhausting.  I tried to mourn in silence, you know, not make a scene, try to be "tough". But when a thundering wave of emotion comes crashing down on you, its kinda hard to remain standing.  Grief is not meant to be endured alone. Yet, all I want to be is alone.

My mom and I had spent years talking about all the sad things that happened in our lives. I had always felt like we had worked through the years of my childhood trauma, but what I failed to realize was that once we were through it, that we had an opportunity to build a better relationship than the one before. And we didn't. Instead we went through the motions and obligations of I being her daughter, and her being my mother. We never formed a "closeness" although I truly believe we both yearned for it. My mom was a good, loving, praying mother. She believed in us, but she was hard on us. She wanted us to be the best we could be, and that included being good daughters. I wasn't a very good daughter. Because once she left this world for the next, I realized that I had so much more to say, and it was that in which kept us polite. But I think, if I had been the daughter she really wanted me to be, I would have just told her the truth.... and by doing that we could have been closer. Because she had a basket full of tools that would show me how to be closer, if I just let her in. If I truly forgave her instead of pretending to. If only I tried to understand her, then maybe I would understand myself a bit better.

I see a lot work ahead of me.... you know, the forgiveness kind, for my mother, and myself. I know she is with me because I can sometimes feel her here. I know she can see me, and I know she knows that I have never been sadder in my life. And I know that she would want me to be as "tough" but I miss her. Oh how I miss her. I don't know how to live without her. I have spent my whole life trying to be independent of her, when in reality I needed her. I always needed her. Change is hard.