Yesterday was a hard day for me. I tried to make something. I tried to write. I tried to understand . I tried to just be. No matter what, I felt heavy, like someone dumped the weight of the universe right inside my chest.
Being a motherless daughter is an ongoing experience. No one has a manual and as the years go on, my mourning changes. Yesterday I cycled through all five stages of grief from the time I woke up to the time I cried myself to sleep. I denied that this loss happened to me, that I just needed to pace the flow of emotions or I would come apart in a big way. Then the anger came. Angry with her for dying, with myself for choosing this experience, for accepting whatever karmic lesson I needed to learn. Angry with people who can’t understand what I feel and, the usual, angry with people who have mothers, but can’t stand them for whatever reason. I tried to bargain with my emotions, to just wait until next Saturday when I have all day Sunday to recuperate because I don’t like this feeling. I don’t like thinking about the fact that my mother is no longer physically with me. I don’t like the feelings. But then I realize that this is my reality, that she has moved on and that I have to continue living. I feel the sadness spread through every fiber of my being. I feel the loss that my daughter will never know my mother, that my son only had four years with his grandmother and – the deepest of all – that I evolved and I don’t have the pleasure of sharing that with her. I figured it out. I need her when things stump me, but I can’t turn to her.
And after all this, after hysterical crying, after just sitting on the bare floor because I just can’t do anything else, after analyzing all the bad decisions and wrong turns, the anger, the raging hate, the desperation, screaming, writing, drawing, withdrawal and nothingness, I realize that I’m still alive. I’m still living. I’m still growing. I’m still here and I’m still who I need to be. Each and every time it gets easier to live with the pain, with the abysmal void, but I do and for that, I’m proud of myself and I know my mother is too.