grief

So I think I may use this blog here to start dealing with my grief. I'm not sure I really want a whole bunch of people I know to read this, and since only a handful of people I know KNOW about this, and I haven't used it in years, it's perfect.

Mom died just over 2 months ago. And today John tagged pictures of her, Carl , dad and me in some of my photos. Well, I looked through them again and seeing her smiling and happy and cancer free just set me off again. It is so un-fecking fair that she had to be taken away from me so young. Yes, it's selfish... yes, she's in a better place, blah fecking blah blah. I want my mother back. I want her on the other end of the phone to talk to her about Jake's first day at day care. I want to send her pictures of her grandson and discuss how big he's getting. I want to talk about Juan and Helena's wedding next month and Yael getting engaged. But I can't do that because she's gone. Sure I can talk to the air, whatever.

I'm just so mad. And I'm not sure how long it'll take for the anger to go away. I don't unleash anger on anyone, but when I think about her being gone, I cry tears of anger and grief. I don't need people to hug me and tell me it's alright. To tell me she's in a better place and not hurting anymore. To give me sad eyes and hope that I'll pour all my grief on them. The idea that I'm not going to see my mother for potentially 60 years (I've I'm blessed to live into my 90's that is), is heartwrenching. And I just wish I could sense her, could feel her. I wish I got the heart in the fog like Linda did from her dad. Or the tinkling of the windchimes like Rob. How I WISH that I could just feel her presence.

And I keep thinking, mom died at 65. That's more than half my current life. When she had me, her life was HALF OVER. What would we do if we knew our life was half over. Is MY life half over? Is ovarian cancer going to kill me at 65 leaving Jake motherless too?

I just wish this pain would go away. Maybe if my mom wasn't so freaking amazing, but she was. And everyone knows it. When over 300 people show up to your calling hours, that says something about your life. She had so much more left to give, it's unfair. And I'm mad.

I am thinking that maybe going to some grief counseling would be good for me. Of course, I'd just cry through it all, starting with in the waiting room. But maybe I should try it anyways. At least I have my blog to spew my thoughts onto.