I just survived. I survived another morning, day, hour or whatever you want to call it. Sometimes I feel like my survival is moment to moment. Am I the only person who feels like this? Don’t get me wrong, over the years I have grown less conscience of the thought, but at least once a day it does cross my mind.
Please don’t misunderstand, I am not in fear of dying. I’m not going the Chicken Little route, I am just very aware of my survival. It all stems back to my mother’s passing in 2005. Losing your mother is a wake up call at any age. It is my opinion that the death of a mother is such a deep wound that it only gets deeper. My experience is, time does not heal all wounds, in this case I only miss her more and it only gets harder. Getting older just means there are more things that she wasn’t physically here for. You don’t even realize some of the things that you will miss until you miss them. I was 26 when she passed away, in a lot of ways I stopped living.
Time measures differently for me now, it’s hard to explain. When she passed away I was living a home, unmarried and I didn’t have any children. I can’t help but think that my thought process would differ a bit if I had my own family to ease the blow. I didn’t have my own family, I did it all alone. I mourned alone, I grieved alone, and I survived alone, none of which I did very well. Since then I did marry, even my marriage has been severely effected by my Mother’s absence.
Holidays don’t matter much anymore, they just don’t feel the same. It isn’t all woe as me, some are easier than others, and it is completely random how it plays out. I remember a Easter Sunday a few years ago, it was a beautiful day and we were attending a large get together at my bosses’ house. As I sat with my plate of ham and watched the kids search for eggs I lost it. I mean full blown lost it. The tears were uncontrollable and I had no idea where the emotion came from. When it does hit me,it is debilitating, it feels as though someone has punched a hole through my chest. The feeling is literal heartache and unless you have experienced it I doubt you can even imagine the pain. This is probably the worst comparison possible but in the Twilight series their is a scene in the movie New Moon that shows Bella physically in pain from the loss of her love. Horrible reference I know but when I watched that movie I could relate to that moment, it was the first time I saw the feeling that I actually feel when it happens. Ugh, I know, I know. Nonetheless, holidays can go either way for me then again so can any random Tuesday while driving home from the grocery store.
Then we have the month of May,screw you May. You would think that being in the Midwest that I would appreciate the month that may bring less bipolar temperatures and vague amounts of sunshine. Ah yes, this is not the case. May 2nd is my mother’s birthday. It just kinda starts the month with a reminder of how old she would have been and how I actually miss the dreaded birthday shopping for her. You see, shopping for her birthday always felt like a kamikaze mission. Mother was someone who didn’t want anything for herself, she took much more joy in providing for others. It wasn’t about material things with her which made it even harder to find direction. She loved plants, so I tried to buy something in that capacity. Unfortunately, Mother’s Day falls just about 10 days later and I used up the plant card. Oh sure, like trying to find one gift wasn’t enough then I needed to find two….right. There’s a part of me that feels like I cheated her a bit, much like people with Christmas birthdays. I know in my heart it wasn’t about things, she just wanted us to care. I am not sure if I cared enough, not as much a she deserved.
I remember the year before she got sick I just kinda through my hands up in the air and decided instead of buying anything, I would cook for her. This was a major deal as my mother was an amazing cook. She always encouraged me to cook but it was almost as if there was no need because she was always there. I decided on an elaborate Mexican themed menu as it was my favorite and she didn’t mind. I prepared several dishes from scratch, I remember being so nervous that she wouldn’t like it. It wasn’t that I thought it was bad, but maybe too spicy, or under seasoned. Mom was never critical in this area so I had no idea where the fear came from but it my eyes it was like serving a meal to an Iron Chef. Much to my delight she looked me dead in the face and said “You should sell these enchiladas on the street, you’d be rich.” That was our last Mother’s Day that I remember, there was one in 2005 but quite honestly, my memories from that time period are blurred a bit. Instead of remembering the good times, my mental block only allows me the bad.
Ugh, obviously I could go on and on. Really, May is a B of a month, I would like it to pass quickly as it is filled with reminders of absence and reflections of half-assed efforts. Getting through each day seems like an effort at times but I have survived so far. Just recently have I started looking forward instead of standing in the same spot paralyzed by fear. The “why bother?” attitude is slowly dwindling and I am learning to appreciate each day a little more. I can’t say that I will ever love the month of May or the emotion it brings but I can say that this one is a little less about survival and a little more about living.
- Mother’s Day For The Motherless? (growingupchaotic.wordpress.com)