Monday, June 28, 2010

Six months.

It's been six months since I heard that voice. Six months since I was on the receiving end of that hug. Six months since I held her hand in the hospital, studied every line in it and memorized the color of the nail polish. Six months since my family and I stood at the cemetery and tried desperately to say goodbye. Six months since I returned to Washington and my life totally fell apart. And it still is, at intervals, every day.

I have been trying to grab the reigns for six months. Some days, they are at my fingertips, and others, there is absolutely NO hope in securing them. Some days, I can't bear the thought of six months growing into seven, then eight, then nine, and onto twelve. Then it will have been a year. I can't even fathom a year, much less two, and so on. The truth is, NOBODY is a professional when it comes to grieving. And even more truthful is the fact that 99% of the time, you have to handle it yourself. NOBODY can fix it for you. I'm going to step up here and admit that I've been doing an honorable job at doing just that.

Along with losing my mother (and my grandmother the day before), I have also managed to secure a great new job in the last six months. I have also been doing photography work with a new camera upgrade that I had been wanted for a long time. I have grown incredibly closer to my father and have supported him through a kidney transplant, while bonding with my sisters on a whole new level. I've come to realize that I have some of the best friends anybody could ask for, and I am lucky enough to be loved by one of the greatest men I know. On top of that, I have made it a point to try my hardest to laugh and enjoy life every day that I am blessed with it. I have also had an offer to frame and display some of my photography work in a local shop for potential sales and viewings. Overall, while I have felt easily at my worst, I have managed to, as they say, keep on trucking along.

I do it ALL for her. I miss her so much that it's brutally painful. I dream about her when I manage to get sleep. I occasionally get caught up in torturing myself with the inevitable "what if" scenarios. That's just human nature, and I excuse myself for it. I can't help but wonder if things had been different, or if I'd had children before she passed. If I'd been married, what would she have worn to my wedding, or the fact that when I do get married, she won't be in any of my pictures. THAT HURTS. I'd apologize to people that think grief has an expiration date for my sad blogs or my "debbie downer" facebook statuses, but there's really nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all. I lost someone who meant the world to me, someone who knew me better than anybody else, someone who loved me for every flaw. I lost my best friend. I LOST MY MOTHER. You only get one of those.

It was brought to my attention tonight, and innocently so, that I should be grateful for the time I had with her and think of those who never had what I had the chance to have. I completely agree. Wholeheartedly, but I also want to point out that I have never been ungrateful in regards to that scenario. I deeply feel for those who perhaps never knew their mother, and for those whose relationship with their mother isn't "perfect". Mine wasn't always, but I wouldn't have changed it for the world, and as grateful as I am to have had her for 27 years, that is a SHORT period of time. And as sad as all these situations are, I can't allow what I'm feeling, this period of grief and mourning that I deserve, to suddenly feel invalid or be undermined. It's only been six months.

If I'm still falling apart and haven't gotten it together somewhat in, say, the next ten, twenty, or thirty years, then I will definitely have been ungrateful for a great many years....but right now, I'm going to mourn her. I'm going to want her back. I'm going to cry and hurt and feel bitterness at times. I'm probably going to be sensitive to innocent propositions. (I know my friend meant no harm to me). I'm going to feel a bit insulted when some people expect me to suck it up sooner rather than later. (People have.) I'm going to see daughters shopping with their mothers and I'm going to wish it was me with my mother instead. These are just minor examples of things that will happen, and not because I even intend them to, but simply because they have been happening, and being a reasonable person, my guess is that they most likely will continue to, because six months is an AWFULLY short time.