"I was thinking about the finality of it all – how somebody can leave your world in the blink of an eye and be gone forever. It’s too enormous to think about. It’s too hard. And then you’re just supposed to go on, right, like just deal with it, I mean really you’re only supposed to be sad for as long as the flowers last and then, oh, time to go back to telling jokes and reminiscing about the old days."
It’s been three months, thirteen days, and roughly five hours. And I’m writing this now. Because time is not healing. Time is not relieving the pain. Three months, thirteen days, and roughly five hours. And I feel worse. I want nothing more than to go back to that day. To see her for the last time. I want to go back and to hold her hand and to sit by her side and tell her that I am not ready to leave. It was the last day I saw her and the first day I realized I will never see her again. Because death is final…but my mind cannot process that.
I’ll be fine. Carrying on with my day just as I would before this happened. I’ll be fine..and then…I’m struck by shock. She’s gone. She’s not here. She wont ever be here again. And then I’m paralyzed. My mind spins off in multiple directions..each path containing various thoughts..trying to figure out how my family got to this place. Flash to three months ago…waking up to the absence of my mom. Laying there cold. Flash to when I moved home to help take care of her. Flash to the time before she got sick. Flash to sitting on the living room couch..watching her sleep..thinking of the fatal day that lurked in the near future. A day that I suddenly woke up in and am currently living now.
And then…my mind goes blank. I can’t think any further. Lost. Dazed. Blank.
I become paralyzed.
I can’t process anything. I can’t process how much of a fight she put up in order to battle the cancer she was diagnosed with. I can’t process how someone can be here one moment…and then just… gone the next. I can’t process how I will never say, “Hi mom, I love you mom, Mom I need you, Thank you mom,” again. I can’t process how one of my closest friends failed to be there for me during all of this. I can’t process how some of my family hasn’t stepped up to the plate to check in on us. It may have been three months, thirteen days, and roughly five hours to everyone who knew my mom…but it is every. day. to. me. Time has not moved. Not in my heart. And not in my head.
I want to fall apart. I want to crawl back into that hole that I fought so hard to climb out of.