Losing Mom: A Journey Through Grief (Part 10)

 July 14, 2021 - 11 Months

July 8, 2021

I don't like when the mail says your name.  It feels like you should still be here.  Like you are still here.  It's something that, in my min, the world should know.  Companies shouldn't send you birthday letters.  The mail shouldn't even say your name on it anymore.  The world should honor the fact that you've passed, and also honor my heart in that they've recognized that fact.

Don't get me wrong, I will accept every opportunity to talk about mom.  But there are some things that are little triggers to me.  July is her birth month.  August is her death month.  They're so close together...  And now we are already in July, which means August is practically tomorrow, which means I will basically be writing another one of these before I know it for the 1 year anniversary of your death.  1 whole f***ing year.  I don't know how to emotionally handle any of it.

July 11, 2021

Last night I was scrolling through my snapchat memories.  Since you've passed, I've spent a great chunk of time looking for pictures of you that I'm certain don't exist.  Memories from my mind that include you, but no physical proof of it anywhere.  Luckily, I did find a couple pictures of memories that I had actually forgotten about.  Just random, mundane days for our family.  One of them was a picture of you with the astrological cancer sign filter on.  Another was of me and you with the dog filter on.  A third was of you, Aunt Diane, and grandma all sitting in a booth at some restaurant.  

We used to do that a lot - eat out - before Aunt Diane's death, and COVID, and then your death.  The last nearly 2 years of my life seem to include nothing but sadness and trauma.  Obviously there were good moments that existed between all that heartbreak - to this very day I have never felt more loved and cared for than I did the day you died.  A great deal of our extended family came over to grandma's and just existed in this new reality with us.  Sometimes I miss that gathering, everyone being together, all the love.  But then I think of the reason for it, and I simultaneously wish it never happens again, for obvious reasons.

The astrological filter picture of you made me cry when I found it.  I remember you often telling me to delete pictures I took of or with you, which is probably why there's not nearly as many in existence as I wish there were...

I wish you were here.  I can still see you so clearly.  Sometimes too clearly, almost convincing myself that I just saw you standing in the kitchen, only to turn and see the wall.  I genuinely can't believe you're gone.  I know it's almost been a year already, but I still can't believe it.  I can't even believe it's the summer.  That it's July.  That next month it'll be August, and the 14th will come before I'm ready, and it'll be official - you'll be gone for a whole year...

I don't know why I'm bringing that sadness onto myself before it's even here.  I just miss you.  A lot.  And I'm angry at too many things for taking you away.  You weren't here for my 23rd birthday, which isn't a milestone birthday of any kind, but it does mean I'm getting older without you.  It does prove that life is moving on, even when I don't want it to.  Especially when I try to demand it stop.

July 14, 2021

11 months.  11 unimaginable and non-survivable months.  Only it's all real, and somehow I've managed.

We're going to the cabin tonight; the first time in the summer since 2019.  This time is going to be completely different than the last time.  You're not going to be there, Aunt Diane isn't going to be there, and grandma isn't going either.  It'll be me, Heather, Aunt Marcia and one of her grand-kids, and Jeremy and Alyssa.

In all honesty, I don't even know if it'll be worth it.  People keep saying it'll be good for us to get away, but if I'm going somewhere nostalgic, how is that helpful at all?  When we went to the cabin to snowmobile this winter, I could only think of the fact that you weren't there to ride with us.  That it was completely different than the last time we had all been as a family.  That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy my time there, but it was still sad.  I expect nothing less from this trip as well.

I know you'll be with us, both of you, I know you're never far.  But not being able to see you.  Not being able to feel you.  Not being able to hear you - it's overwhelming.  I was so oblivious to the massive impact you had on my life.  The massive amounts of things you took on alone to take care of yourself, your mother, and your 3 children.  I didn't thank you nearly enough for your sacrifices and your selfless love.  I didn't ever tell you enough how much I love you and appreciate you.  I don't have the opportunity to say that to your face ever again, but I hope you feel my love through the space and time that separates us now...

I love you forever, the Miss.  I miss using that silly voice together.  I miss our group hugs, and having to squat down because you were smaller than us all.  I miss our massive two-cart shopping trips, because we were all lazy and hated shopping, but eventually the house was empty and we needed to eat.  I miss riding around in that silly van with everyone on our random excursions.  I miss everything about what life used to be, and borderline despise it now, but I work really hard to enjoy it anyway, as I'm sure you would want me to.  As always, sweet Momma, I look for you in the stars...

<3 Sarah