Friday, 2007.08.31, 12:27 AM CST.
update on how I'm holding up.
I have just gotten through a pretty rough day.
(it is now a tad past midnight) was the one-month anniversary of
my mother's death. These last few weeks have gone by rapidly,
but not without a significant amount of pain. I still keep
seeing her in my head and remembering how she looked and sounded
during those last 12 days in her hospital room. I especially
remember holding her hand and watching that last sunset before
she died, knowing that she and I would never see another one
wanted so badly to get better, and it doesn't seem to make sense
she was taken away.
wanted to get out and see my baby boy again.
wanted to get out and go to the casino and play more Red Ball.
She wanted to get out and watch the new fall shows on TV.
She wanted to get out and try the new Wendy's Baconator™.
keep thinking about her, and I dream about her often. Sometimes
she's alive and well in the dreams, but most of the time my mind just
takes me back to that hospital room.
my waking hours, I often find myself wanting to call her, like
when I hear something new about Depeche Mode, or when I try some
or just when I've found a new way to make X laugh. My brain
is cruel enough (or just ignorant enough) to give me a fraction
of a second in which I think it might be possible - forgetting
for the moment that she's dead, and thinking that I can just pick
up the phone and dial up her number.
after that moment has passed, reality catches back up with me,
and I remember holding her hand just before they administered her
morphine on that last day. I remember being told by a pretty
nurse named Shiloh, "She's gone," and being handed the stack of
pictures of my son that had been just been removed from my mother's
room. I remember standing out in the blazing heat, staring at my
mum's coffin as the minister
more often than any of that, I remember again those three precious
sentences that she told me during that last real conversation: "It'll
all be okay. I won't hurt no more... I sure love you
after she passed away, I thought I was making really good progress
towards acceptance. Now, I'm not so sure. All I can
say is that I'm trying. I'm really trying.
just hurts. A lot.