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Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

I thought yesterday was going to be fine.  I got up, took a shower, got dressed.  That may seem like no big deal, but trust me, it’s progress.  I was going to cook dinner, even go to a movie with brother and sister.

Then the phone rang.

I had to explain to three different people at my school why I have been m.i.a. lately.  Why my work as been up to my usual standard.  Three different people, three different in quick succession.  Can’t someone send out a memo?  I do not understand why my teacher and the three various personnel that I deal with can not communicate to each other.  The cherry on top is that my teacher apparently e-mailed them and said she couldn’t get a hold of me?  What?  That is just a blatant lie.  I talked to her last week and that is it.  No calls, no emails, nothing.

I get off the phone and I am in a self righteous huff.  I walk into the kitchen then the living room.  I get into mom’s bedroom when I realize I am looking for her.  I wanted to vent to her how my teacher is lying and I just had to explain to three separate people that she died.  Because when life sucks all I want is to talk to her about it.  I tried calling my sister, but my nephew answered and I had to pretend I wasn’t crying.  I should have just called it then and there.  I should have put pajamas back on, crawled into bed, and pulled the covers over my head.  But I didn’t.

I make dinner.  Spaghetti with homemade meatballs.  Most people know that I have an aversion to touching ground meat.  Something about it just grosses me out.  I made the meatballs without even flinching.  I realized that teenage me may have been skeeved out by ground meat, but adult me just liked that mom would come to my rescue so I didn’t have to touch it.

I get to the movie theater and I go to purchase my ticket.  I pull out these passes that are stabled to each other.  Mom had bought them at costco and given them to all the kids for Valentines Day or Easter or something.  Everyone got one, but she gave me two.  She gave me two because we were going to go together, but we never did.  I am looking at the passes and the poor girls behind the plexiglass is looking at me like I have two heads.  I put the passes away and take out my credit card.

I try to keep it together, but I can’t.  I try to pull myself together in the bathroom, but it doesn’t work.  In the end I am fleeing the theater purposfly avoiding the nice older ticket taker who is trying to intercept me.  I make it me car, I make it home, and I make it into pajamas before crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head.

I tried.

I failed.

Maybe today will be better.

 

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and so it begins.

I registered this blog so long ago.  I had high hopes of turning it into some sort of crafty, cooking, sewing type blog.  But something happened.  My mom, who had terminal cancer, needed my help.  This blog, my life, everything was put on the back burner.  Together with my father, I have spent the past several years putting my mother first.  It was the least I could do.  Up until last week, it was the hardest thing I had ever done.  Sometimes I treasured all the time we spent together and sometimes I hated being everything for her.

Something changed.  Almost exactly one week ago my mother died.  She was at home, she was in her bed, and she was surrounded by her family.  We held her hands and touched her shoulders.  We told her it was okay, she could go.  And she did.

I am now figuring out what is next.  I am processing.  All I want to do is lay in bed and wallow, but I am not.  I am sure I will, but up until today there was still work to be done.  Arrangements to be made and memorials to be planned.  Not anymore.

All I want is to crawl into bed next to her and talk about anything, but I can’t.

I never will again.

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