Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Missing Her

I'm actually at a loss of how exactly to start this. I'm sure it obvious to many of you that I don't write on here very much. While I do enjoy it, my life is just upside down with life most of the time. Writing for me is therapeutic. And although I would rather write about all of the silliness that is often rambling through my head; I must be realistic and say that there are numerous times that silliness is warming the bench and grief and anxiety are having a full game on the court. I bet many people would say that I must be an Academy Award winning actress, because they would never guess that I am gloomy or anxious.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not on a ledge and I don't need meds ( I don't think?) But, I lost my mother to breast cancer three years ago. And that has really changed things for me. Just writing it gives me in lump in my throat. While of course I have acknowledged it. It has taken me probably at least a good two years before I could talk about her without being incomprehensible and drenched in snot.

I'm kind of proud that I can say it now. I think I need to. I need to let myself say it. I need to let me hear myself say it. Because when it happened I didn't think I could do anything else. I didn't think I could make it knowing I had to face the reality that she was gone. And it has taken some time. But I think she would be proud knowing that I'm okay. I can say it and take a deep breath knowing that it's okay to be sad and it's okay to cry, as long as I keep telling myself not to let my life stop just because hers did.

But certain times it's just hard. I hate the fact that holidays and birthdays are not the same for me anymore. Try as I may "it" always gets me. I try and try and try and consciously say "I will enjoy this moment. I will not cry this year."

But I do.

I usually hold it back so much it sometimes comes out as an explosion of blubbering and crying out of nowhere. I hold it back so much that it comes out at random times. Lucky for my family I try to keep these to the car. But many times I will just walk up to my husband Kris and hide my face in his chest and just hug him. He doesn't say a word, he just hugs me back tight, and I know that he knows. I guess my heart won't let me keep it in.

It's one of those moments this month. My first born will be five on the 22nd. I can't believe it. I called the school today to see when registration was for fall and when the first day of school is, so that I can try to request off. Because I'm gonna be "that" mom. That mom that on your first day of kindergarten is on cloud nine so excited for my baby, while at the same time making sure I am stocked up on waterproof mascara. Because there will definitely be waterworks.
I wish she could be here for that moment.

I remember after she was diagnosed that they had her bilateral mastectomy scheduled and I was angry because it was right before Mirah's birthday. And I was so upset that she wouldn't be able to give her baby girl a hug on her birthday. I honestly feel guilty for that moment. It was not her fault. It had to be scheduled when it had to be scheduled. But that was another "real" moment for me. That this was a real disease and it was taking it's course no matter what I said or did. I don't think I ever hated anything more in my life than at that moment.


Right before I knew about her diagnosis, Kris and I were deciding on where to buy a house. Closer to her and my family, or further out. I couldn't bear being too far from them. She told us to pick where we like. Pick where we can see our family at, not to pick based on them. I know now that she already knew her diagnosis and the grimness of it. It was another selfless thing she did for us. My family lived in east Houston, and we ended up moving to Richmond/Katy area, far west of Houston. We didn't move here because we were trying to get away, but it is where we liked. I'm glad she was selfless enough to let us make that decision. My heart still aches when I drive out to that area.

And these little girls of ours! There are so many things that these little girls do that I know my mom would be cracking up! Probably more for the smart silly remarks that they tell me. I know she would be thinking how blissfully sweet the circle of life is, that I have children that give me as hard of a time as we gave her. I don't think we were that bad? Were we? So many moments that I wish she was here with us. With them. It breaks my heart that Mirah does not remember her. She was just two. And Phoenix was still growing in my tummy when she passed.

As much as I would have liked her to have so many of these moments with them. I am thankful that they do not have this heaviness in their heart that I have. They are blissfully innocent, happy, healthy and crazy.

I don't think she would have it any other way.

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