Today is not a good day.
Today is that day, but five years later. Five years. I can hardly believe it.
In those five years I've had two beautiful girls who would be the light of my mother's life, and she theirs. Life is not fair. Life is a bitch wrapped in not fair clothing. Today anyway.
I have a story to write, a story I said I would never write, but I feel I need to. But I don't know how to write it. Don't you hate it when bloggers say things like that? Yeah, sorry.
My dad and grandmother are coming over in an hour. My father, who divorced from my mother - or vice versa, it was her idea - a couple of years before she died. His fiance will be with him. Not that I mind that he's getting married again. But you know, it's weird today. And we didn't plan for him to come on this day in particular, it just worked out that way. Things will be slightly awkward if anyone dares bring up what day it is. My Nana will get melancholy and I will get defensive. I don't want to talk about it with them. I don't know why.
I would rather drive home and sit at her grave. It's a warm day for February, it would be nice to dress Chicky in her rain boots to visit what would undoubtedly be a muddy cemetery and let her run along the gravestones. We'd play hide and seek. We'd lay roses on her grave - one for her, one for me, and one for each of the girls. I haven't done that since there were only three roses to lay down. I owe her a visit even though I am with her every day in my mind. I would tell stories about her to my oldest girl even though I wouldn't want to bring up those memories. I would do it because I would be forced to and sometimes I need to be forced to do difficult things. Sometimes it is good for me.
I would rather today be any other day. In a short time it will be but the pain will still be there. So what's the point? I don't know.
I just needed to write it out, you know?
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In happier news, I'm over at Alpha Mom today. You should visit because I'm trying to keep you and your kids safe. Just looking out for you. You're welcome.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Tomorrow is another day
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32 comments:
Oh, honey. I don't know what you're going through, but I can feel your pain and sorrow and I'm crying for (with) you. Big hugs to you today.
I lost my father last April and although I've got loss that's deep like this too - I won't pretend to "know what you're going through", grief is different for everyone for everything. Only advice I'll offer is just do your best to be patient with yourself amiga.
I'm so sorry you have to mark this anniversary. I hope you find some comfort on this difficult day.
Yes, I know.
Thinking of you.
Oh, it really sucks. I'm sorry.
I never ever ever go to the cemetery. Sometimes I feel bad, but I just don't. I am wondering a lot, lately, about how to talk to my kids about the grandmother they don't know.
It's just weird. And hard. Do something nice for yourself tonight, okay?
I'm so sorry. Take care of yourself today.
Be gentle with yourself today, hon.
I'm glad we can be here (reading your words) today.
I have only been following you for a short time ( via The Trenches) but I adore your blog and am so sorry for the day you must be having! Thoughts and prayers are going out your way. And... from where I am... she knows and loves your children and is smiling down on them, I am sure! Jenn
{{hugs chicky mama}}
Writing it out is a damned good thing.
{{{hugs}}}
Losing a parent is so hard, although I think losing a mama is even harder, especially one as young as your own. My heart goes out to you.
My thoughts are with you tonight...
I hope you get a date and some time with those roses very soon.
"That day" is coming for me. My Mom is dying and I cried as I read your post. I often think how much I will miss her, how I will pick up the phone to call her and she won't be there.
Meanwhile, I try to remember every second of now.
I am so sorry your mom is gone.
So hard. The day I knew my daughter was pregnant I found myself out on the back porch talking to the stars. Do you know, Mum?
Crying.
Hugs. Your right, tomorrow is another day, and it won't hurt as bad, but it will never go away. Hang in there. Hug your girls. Mine make me feel better!
Missy
Ugh, I am coming up on 12 years... 12. I can't even begin to wrap my head on that. I still miss my mom everyday, just like you. I wish she could have met my girls and my son. I hate that day too. I really really hate that day.
I am sorry. I hope you made it through ok. Minimal tears. Tomorrow is another day. Someday you'll be able to tell stories without a lump in the throat... but somedays you wont.
I wish I could tell you the magic day it will stop hurting but I can't. I will let you know if I ever get there.
No words other than "I'm so sorry", and ((((hugs)))) coming your way.
:( The loss never really seems to get easier. Much love coming your way. *hugs*
I am so sorry for you loss. Thoughts and prayers for you on this day.
Big hugs my friend big hugs
(((((((hugs))))))))))
I am sad reading this. I lost my mom when I was 22 - she was 42. Losing your mom is unlike anything else one can experience. I have now outlived my mother by one year. And it is such an awkward feeling. That being said - the pain does fade and for me, some of my memories. So much else has come into my life since her death - and I have lost since her death. Those thoughts remain fresh as thoughts of her fade. But she will always be in my heart- always. So my thoughts are with you today....I do know how you feel.
Thinking of you, T. Wish I could shield you from the awkwardness and pain.
I'm really sorry.
Thinking of you today chicka, seriously am. xo
((you))
I hope the writing helped you. I know it helped others. I still remember the post you wrote about the importance of keeping baby books. As always, thank you for sharing.
I can't even imagine the depth of pain that comes with losing a loved parent, but you and your family are in my thoughts today and I am so very deeply sorry for your loss. I hope that tomorrow is a little better.
Since I wasn't reading the last time you marked this date, I will say that I am sorry for your loss.
May time not necessarily take the pain away, but at least heal the wound.
I'd say I'll pray for you, but really? That's useless coming from me. I'll have a good thought.
Yeah, baby, understood. There are some dates that will never just be days on the calendar ever again.
Hugs.
I dread Aug. 26.
I know.
Wow... this really hit home for me -- partly because my mom died just two months after yours did (April, 2004), also from cancer, and because the last week with her was surreal as well (I posted about it here: http://northwestladybug.blogspot.com/2007/03/journaling-love-and-death.html). But also because my dad has also since found love (http://northwestladybug.blogspot.com/2006/08/finding-love-at-78_02.html) and I can only say that, hard as it's been for me in some ways, it's been a HUGE gift in others. I'm not one to give advice normally; I'll only say that if you can find a way to open your heart to this woman, you just might make three people very happy... your dad, his friend, and yup -- even YOU. :-)
Carol
I hate that you have a day special for this reason. I hate that you are so far away, so I can't come over with some ice cream, some chocolate, and some wine and give you a big old squeezey hug. But I'm glad you are starting to write it out a bit. I think it will help a bit more each time - it has me. I hope it does you, too. xoA
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