Every time you hit a new phase of grief it’s like getting thrown off a cliff. It’s unexpected, makes your tummy jump and feelings of falling and spinning out of control are most likely involved.
Then you hit the ground. Sometimes it hurts, bad, like you’re actually broken. Other times, someone must have put a nice cushy cloud beneath you and you truly feel ok and can get your ass up and take a step forward.
I hit the ground last week. Hard. Really fucking hard. No cushy cloud for me this time. Dammit.
Just spinning. Just falling. Just lost.
Every time I take a couple steps forward and feel a little better, I hear a song or smell her perfume, or see a tree or a rock I think she’d like… I take 10 steps back. It’s fucking crazy. Crazy.
Along with this fall, I’m starting to notice how others react to my grief and their knowledge of my mom being gone.
When mom was alive, the thing that made my blood boil was when people would say hi and ask how she is, but with a tilted head and a certain “you have cancer and that’s really sad” tone. Rather than just asking how’s it going….it was hoowws it gooiiin (head tilt….sigh).
Hey, guess what, she knows she has cancer. She knows she has no hair. She knows she looks like hell. Trust me.
Just talk to her like she’s….now this is gonna sound fuckin nuts….a person. A regular, not sick, not terminal, human.
She always took my hand and told me to chill out whenever I’d get upset at people, she reminded me they are doing the best they can, and they just care.
The tables have turned…now I’m getting the head tilt and the hoowws it gooiiin (head tilt….sigh). “That’s the girls who’s mom died, so sad” tone and sad eyes and it typically comes with a hand holding of some sort.
Guess what, I know she’s dead. I know she’s never coming back. I know she is free now.
Some days, I’m ok though. Some days I talk to her, some days I scream. Not at her, just scream.
Some days I can’t even remember how to do normal things, like eat, sleep or breathe.
I probably don’t want to talk about it.
Just pretend, for a moment, that she isn’t gone. That she is still here laughing and smiling. Imagine she didn’t get sick. Imagine she always felt good, no pain.
Boom. Back to reality.
Fuck you reality.
No cloud. Just cliff.
Someday, this too, will pass.
I love you momma.