Friday evening
It has been 37 days since you passed away.
Only 37 days.
It feels like a lifetime.
It feels as if it just happened.
I miss you more each day. Instead of it getting better, as I'm often told, it feels worse. In the initial days following your death I was numb. Too many things to do; must stay strong for Father and Brother; must arrange the cremation and get the paperwork started; must begin the inevitable clear-out of your personal belongings; details upon details to be handled.
Most of your belongs have been boxed/bagged and are awaiting pickup from whichever charity organization I can find with a truck big enough to carry it all away. Unfortunately the SPCA Shelter Shop decided they couldn't take the items, so I am now awaiting the St. Vincent de Paul organization.
The house still looks as if someone is either moving in or out. Each
day I get up, do the chores, take Brother to work, handle the
duties of the part-time job. I do what is expected of me. What you
would expect of me.
But inside, in my heart, in my head, I am broken. It feels surreal, as if I will awake to find it had all been a horrible dream.
You always said that when you died you didn't want us to be all maudlin and mourn. You always said: "Have a good cry, then get on with it." Well Momma, that is what I am doing. I have cleared out most of the excess of your belongings, leaving behind only the items I cannot bear to part with. Your room looks eerily organized without the piles of clothing, bedding, towels etc in baskets and heaps.
It is amazing how much stuff you kept and how you managed to squeeze it all in.
What happens next, Momma? How do I fill the space in my life where you used to be?
That void was clearly illuminated to me tonight. Father said yesterday he knew you and I always talked and that if I needed to talk he would listen. Well, I put that to the test tonight and, as usual, he barely had time to pay attention to what I was saying. And, as usual, it didn't really register with him. It was a "girls thing" and he could not possibly connect with it.
When he left the room to make a phone call I started to cry, the realization slowly sinking in that I have lost more than just my mother. I have lost a soul mate.
How do I go on from here?
I don't have any female friends, Momma. You were the only female I had to talk to. What do I do now? Who do I talk to now?
I have spent most of my life considering you, putting your needs first, trying to make you proud of me, trying to help you, trying to be the one you could rely on. I often failed at my attempts, but I know I stayed with you, right to the end. We did it your way, Momma. Against all my instincts, we did it your way. I stayed with you, Momma, but you left me.
Now what do I do?
Momma, I miss you so much.