A lot has happened since I’ve neglected this blog. The biggest change, however, has been within myself.
It’s been two months since my mom passed. Sometimes, it feels as though it happened yesterday, while other times, it feels as if that day was so long ago. I realized that I have been numb for many months. Since maybe October or September or perhaps longer than that.
The business of dying weighs on the living, on the surviving, as if the entirety of the hourglass sands dumped on you. There’s the funeral, the casket, the cemetery plot, the headstone, the obituary, the ordering of death certificates. Then, taking her name off of things, most of which needed to wait until the state mailed the death certificates. Yes, plural. You have to give them places like the bank and registrar of deeds.
Doing all this stuff takes a long time. And then, there’s the matter of telling the stranger on the other line what happened. After every conversation, my dad’s eyes would well. We’d give him a hug and he’d need some time before he could call the next person.
Then, there was the guilt. That pang of terribleness you’d feel for laughing, for constructing a closet, for baking cookies, for watching tv shows or movies, for doing anything really. I felt guilty for having a birthday without my mom there. The food was great. I only began to cry once while we sat in the restaurant. The day after my birthday was harder than the day itself. I spent that Wednesday playing Skyrim.
Friends and neighbors gave, and still give as they learn the news, their condolences. They tell you that they will keep you and your family in their thoughts and prayers. They let you know that they are there if you need anything. They ask if there is anything they can do. The answer is no. There is nothing anyone can do. However, just the fact that someone cares, that someone offers, is enough. It makes you feel less alone in the world. No matter how many people surround you, when you lose a loved one, you feel alone. At least for a time. And time, it is the only thing that truly helps.
Only now, am I coming alive—feeling again. Sure, I cried while she was in the hospital and when she died. During that time, I may have well been wading through just set jello. Now, I cry at every little thing. Something sweet, I cry. Something cute, I cry. Something nice, I cry. Something sad, I cry. Something wonderful, I cry. I’ve never been so emotional before.
I have always been an extremely private person. Social media is difficult for me. I rarely, if ever, let anyone get close. This has been true since childhood. My walls are many and impenetrable. Until two months ago. It seems they died with her. So did my fears.