here it comes.

well shit. july is almost here.

july 2015 was the most conflicted month in the History of Kala.

mom died.

target + mik was born.

i hate this. i hate this feeling. impending doom, so to speak. like vomit. you know its coming, and you know you can’t do anything about it. you just have to let it out.

well, i’m not letting it out, and now i have hives again. my chest, my neck, my face and my arms. thats a new one. luckily they aren’t too bad on my arms. why can’t this just stop. for fuck’s sake.

everything is replaying in my head. over and over. like a broken record. i’m trying to hold on to every little thing i have left of her.

friday-july 3rd, 2015. fireworks and the party at the shop. mom was in a wheel chair, and her eyes and skin had jaundiced. she was weak and frail. she was still full of sunshine. until i asked her why she didn’t tell me she was in a wheel chair. she broke. i broke. she said she was having trouble standing, her legs would give out on her. she said it was because she had overworked herself. sometimes i wonder if i knew that was going to be the second to last conversation I had with my momma.

saturday-july 4th, 2015. derrick was still in california at this point and i was concerned about mom, or maybe i knew we were getting towards the end, i don’t know. so i went over. she was in her chair, reading a magazine, with her knit blanket around her cold toes. she was still broken from yesterday. she asked if i cold make potato salad. i, of course, obliged. because…potato salad. well mom doesn’t just let ANYONE in her kitchen…including me…she tried to stand to come in and help me, and fell. so we brought in a chair, a table and her work so she could “watch” me in her kitchen while she worked. she couldn’t hold her fork, or her bottle of strawberry kiwi welches juice. she was tired. so tired. I didn’t know it then, but this was the last conversation i would have with my momma.

sunday-july 5th, 2015. she can barely speak. she couldn’t really move. she couldn’t go up the stairs. john and i talked on the phone and i asked him if “this was it” and he cried and told me he thinks it is. we moved the extra bed down to her favorite room and made it comfy. she didn’t say much, mostly sounds at this point. she couldn’t eat, or drink anything. she was alone. in her head. we were there, but she was gone. she was so tired.

monday-july 6th, 2015. I called derrick and told him he needs to come home. today. mom is going fast. i need him. he was home late that night. today, natalie and hans came over. mom perked up and opened her eyes and played with her. it was a miracle. after that, she slept. for hours. she was so tired. at one point, when we thought her mind had gone already, she looked up and smiled. there was “nothing” there. things go drastically worse. she couldn’t take her pain pills anymore without help, she hadn’t eaten, and had barely anything to drink. she hadn’t moved in hours. this was out of our league. we sat with her, napped with her, talked with her, and we cried. i was so scared to lose my momma. i was, still am not, never will be, ready to not have my momma. derrick told her he promises to always take good care of me. i sat next to her and in a whisper i told her that i was ok. she didn’t believe me i dont think. i told her i was going to miss her. she went to sleep. i went to sleep.

tuesday-july 7th 2015. hospice had her all set up. they bathed her, changed the sheets and put clean jammies on her. she looked so beautiful. they taught us how to give her the meds she needed to stay comfortable. they had a little book. a terrible, helpful, little book. they told us mom had hours at best. mom couldn’t fight anymore and that was clear. she was breathing really slow. scary slow. our family stayed. pajamas were borrowed. sweaters were worn. blankets were piled. we all stayed up too late, and then passed out. john stayed with mom. held her hand.

wednesday-july 8th 2015. derrick woke me up. mom was breathing extremely fast now. she was on her way out. i couldn’t watch her leave. i brought a blanket, and laid down on the floor. i covered my head. john talked to her. hospice had told us what we would see when she about to be peaceful.  it was happening. it was heart breaking and wonderful all at once. she fought for so many years. she was so tired. john talked to her some more. and cried. his last words to her were amazing. i will never forget them. she passed right after that. she was gone.

over the next few days, we had a lot of things to get in order. we smoked all the cigarettes as well. i didn’t eat. i didn’t really sleep. we stayed with john that night. we went home thursday. came back friday to start the next step. yes. already.

obituary. funeral plans. and we cleaned her clothes out of the bedroom. too hard for john.

friday-july 17th, 2015. the funeral. the interview. my final interview at target with the district leader was, and had been, scheduled for 8am today. i got a call that wednesday asking if i could possibly change the interview time. i told her what happened. and she said i could reschedule. i needed to think. everyone agreed mom would have been livid and swearing like a sailor if i didn’t do it. so i did it. it went amazing. i was barely in the door after leaving target when i was offered the job. i took it graciously and i was happy. then i got ready for my mother’s funeral. i will never forget that day. the beautiful music and the sweat and tears running down everyone’s faces. she made an impact on every single person that came into her life.

i miss her.

every single day.

the sound of her laugh is starting to fade and i am having trouble remembering her laugh sometimes. i wish i could see her again. i wish i could hear her again. i wish i could smell her perfume without spraying the bottle i took from her bathroom.

i miss her.





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