Ugh. It’s so weird without you here. I just can’t believe it. Unreal.
About once a month hospice sends me mail offering support groups or counseling, pamphlets that say everything I’m feeling is normal, blah blah blah. They certainly are pros and I really appreciate it but I’ll never go. This weekend I got a flyer for a memorial service. I RSVP’d. I don’t know why I want to go when all I will end up doing is crying. But I’m kind of hoping I’ll feel you there I guess. Maybe get to see some of the people who cared for you. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just trying to honor you? Maybe I’m just dumb. It’s on a Thursday which is STUPID. I’ll have to talk to Lori about taking that Friday off or I’ll have to go to work with baseball eyes.
My newest phase of this grief is almost consuming me. For instance every time I get out of bed to use the bathroom I think “my mom used this bathroom.” “She sat on this toilet seat.” “She showered in this shower.” I have some of your body wash and shampoo. I don’t want to knee using it because you touched those things and once they’re gone I will feel empty. It was dumb of me to pick a hospice and nursing home close to my work. I thought it was smart at the time but now Just driving to work is torture. When I turn right on to Erie I fee like I’m going to see you, not go to work. I think “my mom and I drove down this road.” That big bump we hit on our way to the nursing home for the first time and you howled in pain because of your back…. I nearly cry going over it now. Which then makes me think of taking you to that nursing home and leaving you there… Ugh it just breaks my heart. God I wish I could talk to you. I feel like I was so “robotic” with you that whole time because I just really didn’t want to grasp what was happening. The entire thing stressed me out more than I could ever put into words. Even when you were at the hospital and doing fairly well, I’d go see you everyday and the parking was $10/day which made Lori so mad. I felt guilty going to see you and I felt guilty if I didn’t go see you. I lost either way. That’s not the only thing there is so much more I want to tell you. Not now. I don’t have it in me.
Lori and I trimmed trees and bushes on Monday. The first bush I went to had a clump of your hair in it. The last time you were here was on Easter and your hair was just falling out like crazy from your radiation. Lori swept the house when I took you back to the nursing home and you wouldn’t believe the amount of hair. I was going to take a picture and show you but I knew how sad you were about your beautiful hair falling outso I didn’t tell you. Anyways I untangled the hair from the bush and I have it next to my side of the bed. I’m going to find something to put it in so I can keep it with me. To most that sounds gross or weird but I know you would do the same and if you knew I was doing this you would think its cute.
The cardinals have stopped coming around and have been replaced with butterflies. I think all that stuff is a crock of shit but since you died I started believing all of it. I’m not sure if this switch means you’ve left me or not. I read that if you whisper “I love you” to a butterfly they carry the message to heaven. So I hope you’re getting them. I’m having a lot of trouble sleeping at night. That’s nothing new but it’s worse now. I’m borderline obsessed with your death. I google your name all the time hoping to find something new. I listen to cancer podcasts and read about cancer as much as I can. I look for you in everything I do, I try to do things that will make you proud. I fucking miss you. People tell normal stories of their lives and I reply “my mom would have loved that!” Or “one time me and my mom…” etc.
I love you. I’ll regret my behavior towards you the rest of my life. I really wish I had made the effort to get to really know you before it was too late. I’m so sorry. I am seriously so very sorry.
I love you mom.