Posted by: Wagons Ho | September 30, 2016

9 months

I miss my mom. Not every second of every day, numb feeling, kind of missing. But hit you out of the blue, actual physical pain when you remember she is gone, miss her. The boys and I play a game where we say what we would do if we had a wish, or 2, or 3. In the past I always said more wishes, or millions of dollars, or a beach house, or some other silly thing. When they asked me the last time I couldn’t answer. Because the one wish I had was to have my mom back. Nothing else. Not more wishes, not more money, not to be skinny, none of the usual stuff. The first thing that popped into my head was “my mom”.

I’m crying at the most random times. Yesterday it was reminiscing with Marshall about the trip we took this summer. One second we are talking and laughing, the next I’m crying. Neither of us know why.

I find myself having to avoid more and more things. Movies, songs, tv shows, even commercials, don’t get me started on the one where the football player calls home to hear his dead mother’s voice on the answering machine. There’s always something that can trip me up.

I’m hiding again. Socializing, acting normal, forcing myself to not cry over seemingly innocent comments, it’s exhausting. So I stay home.

My patience level is still low. The kids, and Marshall, take the brunt of my freak outs. I apologize and promise to do better. I’m not sure they believe me anymore. I’m not sure I believe me any more.

More and more I find myself thinking “I should tell mom about that.” When it happens I have to remind myself that I can’t because she isn’t here anymore. It hurts like you would not believe.

It’s the time of year when we send Trapp’s birthmom a letter and pictures. I’m later than normal this year. Going through pictures, remembering holidays, it was harder than I thought it would be. I haven’t even started the letter yet. She’s one more person I have to tell, just when I thought I was done saying the words. I’m not sure I can do it.

I worry about my sister. I have Marshall to pick up the slack, and the kids to take my mind off of stuff. She has been taking care of dad, working, taking care of her house, and dad’s, dealing with the banks, and vehicles, and all the other estate stuff I can’t do from here. I hate that she has to do it all alone.

It’s been 9 months. 9 short, and long, months. Shouldn’t it be getting easier? Shouldn’t I be remembering happy times more, sad times less. Remembering more of the laughter, less of the pain? Crying less? Angry less?

I keep thinking it will be easier when the bank accounts are settled, when the estate is closed, when summer is over, birthdays are over, dr appointments and first days of school are over. It hasn’t gotten easier. This is so hard and I miss her so much.












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