Writing in my head, on grief

I could have sworn that I’d been writing all this time. I create narratives in my head. I imagine typing. I plot what type of imagery I should use to accompany a post. But obviously I have not posted anything in almost two years. I miss it.

Maybe because the last post was actually written by my mom, Susan Skelly (March 7, 1943-July 29, 2016.)

We lost her to &^%$(# cancer last year. The time between her diagnosis and her passing was so quick – June 1st – July 29th – that I feel like I have finally processed the diagnosis. I am still working on processing her death.   There are days I feel like I’ve got it (eureka!) and then weeks that go by with a hurt that is still raw.

I’m a little worried because my mom always said that she never got over losing her mom.

Everyone dies (duh). I am surrounded by people who have experienced loss, and for those who have been lucky, it is just a matter of time. And yet, despite everyone (everyone!) knowing that loss is a part of life, the collective ‘we’ just simply don’t deal with it very well.

“The first year is so hard.” Sigh. Yes, the first year was so hard. I still had the physical instinct to pick up the phone every day. But passing the anniversary of her death didn’t magically part the clouds or take away the hurt.

But, I don’t reflexively pick up the phone anymore to call her, so I guess that is a good thing? It doesn’t take away the need to talk to her – to have her talk me off the proverbial ledge (OMG I have a full blown teenager and I need my mom to remind me that this too shall pass.)

The “work” of dealing with her life and death is nearly over. Her house is sold, we divided up her pottery and special life artifacts, we took care of the paperwork and the accounts and relocated the cats.  There are a few boxes of things we want to revisit later – maybe sell or maybe keep. But we just couldn’t do it all.  Even though the literal and figurative “heavy lifting” of settling the estate is done, it didn’t magically turn a page in the manual on how-to-process-loss.

I can talk about her without crying sometimes (but as my dear amazing friends know, I cry ugly tears too.) Damn it how I long for her voice, her advice, her laugh.

The habit of living with her loss is setting in. But the grief, it isn’t settled.

2015-04-06 15-55-39_IMG_4537
2015 Trip to Uganda

 

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