Well hello June 6th.
I’ve been dreading your arrival.
My mind has attached all sorts of meaning to you:
Six months since my sweet mommy died. Six months of grieving. Six months of limbo. Time’s up. Move on.
Here is what I have to say to my mind:
HA HA HA HA HA…… right.
I thought by now I would have come to terms with things. I thought the worst would be over. I thought I would have embraced my own life and pulled it all together. I thought Mexico would have healed me.
Maybe it’s the PMS talking (ok, it’s more than likely the PMS)(or the Depression, which is an even bigger asshole than the PMS)(together they are a formidable duo of asshole-liar-overly-sensitive-ness) but the worst doesn’t seem to be over. The worst seems to be right now. And right now, nothing seems any better than it did six months ago when I kissed my sweet mommy for the last time and watched strangers take her body away and then tried to be the mommy to my own grieving son when all I really wanted was for someone to be the mommy to me.
Truth be told, I still just want someone to be the mommy to me sometimes. Which is exactly how my mom felt when her mom died. And then she got sick (way too soon, God) and voila! I became the mommy to her. As much as it sucked, I’m glad that she had someone to hold her when the fear and the pain were too much and to tell her everything was going to be ok, even when we both knew it wasn’t. That is what mommies do.
I miss you mom. Six months is like 3 minutes and 102 years all wrapped up into one thing. I would give anything to lay my head on your shoulder and have you stroke my hair and tell me everything is going to be ok.
p.s. If June 6th wanted to do something besides be an asshole-reminder-of-sadness it could give me a new niece/nephew today… JUST A SUGGESTION, JUNE 6TH.
p.p.s. I’m sobby and stabby and I just want my mom, dammit. But I guess you knew that….
p.p.p.s. If you know someone who is being a caregiver, give them a hug and tell them everything is going to be ok. 🙂