My mom

You walk around wearing this unseen mask, you're a part of a club you never signed up for.. dates to some people mean nothing..dates to me can be internally excruciating. Before I lost my mom I do not even recall seeing everything 'Mother's Day' plastered in stores and on TV. Add to it, Mother's Day is just commercialized. I have her birthday, my birthday, the day she died and the day we had her funeral. Losing her right after I turned 16, yes 13 years ago, it still slaps me in my face and in the same breath helps me each day be who I am. It actually bothers me some I have no idea when I finally made the decision to bring her ashes to the Jersey shore where she wanted to be spread. You think that day would be engraved in my head and heart. Instead I can feel the breeze, smell the air, remember who was standing where.. being on that dock where so many of her good memories were. Where her father and my Gram's ashes were. (Well my Gram's and her's were done at the same time but that's another depressing post). I think it was more because I had been to hell and still wasn't back yet..and because I was surrounded by her family, my family.. so it was about the moment and not the calendar date. There's certain things I know will always be a part of me. Five major ones come to mind.

The 'forever' 16 year old:
I consider a chunk of me to be this..because I don't know any other way to be. The crushing blow of losing her suddenly and facing life without her reverts me back into this girl who never grew up (even if I have).

'Meeting' death:
You hear about it, someday you find out we all actually will die.. but it doesn't process until you meet, face, know it. It changes the air you breathe. I remember the moment I found out she had passed on.. (over the phone, no less, home alone, hearing it from some guy) I'll save that for another day too. But in that moment of time, that death vortex, the air truly does change. It becomes thick, unfathomable, terrifying and full of a surge of grief soon to overtake you the very second you catch that first breath. You and the true meaning of life changes..even if the latter doesn't feel instant..it's happened.

Never saying 'muth' again or hearing her:
I'll never randomly yell out 'Mom' and rescue comes. I become sad thinking I have lost that real luxury of life.

BM-AM "Before Mom and After Mom':
It's just like in the one book (lol). I can remember things by when she was here and when she wasn't like it was yesterday. It's that defining.

The 'moral' of my story:
I came to realize..after a while.. a ton of angst and grief.. that I wouldn't trade a million lifetimes for a different mom. I'd pick my 16 with her.

I am still leftover with quite a few issues from her dying. I spiraled. I questioned..everything and everyone. I was broken and on my own. I left soon after that- the home I grew up in my whole life..was so far from a home..I had to get out for my own well-being and sanity. I moved out not long after turning 17. I still consider myself to have been on my own since 16 though.

I don't like many people touching me.. my mom was the soother..she was the one who's hugs, kisses and hair stroking felt right, safe and normal. I actually knew that when I had a child I would finally be able to touch with that pureness that I neglected and rejected to and from anyone who wasn't her. I would stroke his temple before he fell asleep, I would play with his porkchops, I would stay awake just to stare in awe of him. Sorry, I'm getting off point. I didn't crave much, I didn't desire much. I just wanted her back. She died in 1995 and I can say I really didn't start embracing and accepting positive aspects of this until 2005. Not to say I crawled into a hole..but I sure as hell didn't live up to my potential by a long shot. I do not beat myself up for this huge chunk of time that I grieved- I know it is all meant to be..even if I don't know all the in and outs of why, yet.

Sometimes I think how would it be if she was still here. I would know who she really is. I would have had time to understand my mom, become her real best friend, and know not only who she truly IS but who she was before me. There's a lot of purely selfish reasons to want her back. Then there's the ones that are bittersweet. Feels more bitter only because I know how glorious it would be for her to be here for them. Nostalgic/traditional ones- that I try to follow anally. It's that semblance of 'normalcy' that I wish so bad to recreate like when she was here.

29 years old and I still ache. It's just now it comes and goes. Right now..I miss her so much.

Writing on the fly

I don't sit down with any preconceived notions of what I am going to write when I get here. Maybe that's why this isn't the way I want it to be so far. I am structured by soul yet am surrounded by disarray.

It's that time of the month for moi so I am a bit on the short side anyways but I went to my Dad's today and sadly- being near my brothers just puts me into a mood. This isn't same wah wah girly talk..it goes so much deeper, profound and dysfunctional. Tweedle Dee can be my older brother and Tweedle Dum can be my younger one, (almost not figuratively either). The sheer lazyness, feelings of entitlement, the pathetic need for pills to get them through a day of nothingness. I am the one taking my Dad to all his appts. I am the one WITH A CHILD and a home to run. I am the one running around like a chicken with it's head chopped off but they are sooo tired. I mean we are freaken grown adults yet for some reason they choose to still not function in any form of society. I don't know- there's plenty of time to get into them and vent about their levels of disgustingness. Trust me I wish I had any semblance of a family left..a true, deep, caring one. I'm just over being the one carrying so many weights on my shoulders and having Dee and Dum frolic behind waiting for me to drop a scrap of anything that doesn't weigh much and benefits them in some way, shape or form.

Yesterday I took Chops out in the Monsoon again to get him his very first *drumrollll* bike! He has a plastic one and a motorized one but not a real boy bike with training wheels. He is so excited and looks so cute riding it with his helmet, armpads and kneepads. He even 'helped' me push it out of the store and wouldn't let anyone touch it. It goes from swaddling my tiny package to buying a bike..in a few blinks of my eyes. I swear his first day of kindergarten I will need a morphine drip. He begs me now to ride the school bus and when I say no he just skips along and says 'Ok, but tomorrow?!' Nooooooo.