And then there are the bad moments. Those are the times that suck. Those are the ones I dread. They start off woth perfectly normal, "okay" days. Then something happens, a song on a radio, a book I see, or a a TV show scene and its July of 2011 all over again. I feel helpless, alone and inconsolable. All I want to do is find a dark room to curl up in and cry. It always happens at the most inconvenient moments, too.
I kind of hate those moments. Not because they sometimes happen at the most inopportune moments that make me feel like Brendan Fraser's sensitive guy in Bedazzled.
It's because I feel okay most of the time and suddenly I'm not. Suddenly I'm a little girl who just wants her mommy to make everything okay again. All I want is to pick up the phone and tell her how crappy I'm feeling at that moment because she was the person I'd call when I had a bad or good moment. But I can't anymore and that makes it worse.
I'll get sad and wonder why some girls get to keep their moms for longer than 30 thirty, whether they like them or not. I'll wonder where the fairness is in that - Why did she have to get sick? Why couldn't she be cured? Why is she the one missing out on her grand kid's biggest moments, biggest achievements? Why did she have to leave me?
Then there's the guilt. The guilt is sometimes worse than the sadness. The guilt that I couldn't do more for her, that I couldn't save her, that I'm still here and she's not. And with the guilt and sadness come a few tears that I feel makes me look like an unhinged mess.
But then there's a little voice in the back of my head and it's usually my mom's (not in some creepy Norman Bates kind of way, it's more a friendly reminder of what my mom always said during her last year) She didn't want me to stop living just because she wasn't around. She wouldn't want me wallowing in self pity. A couple of minutes here and there, but not lying and bed refusing to get out. That's what she always said. That and if I became like one of those hoarders on TV that refused to get rid of any of her stuff, she'd haunt me until I got my act together.
That's usually around the time I realize I was kind lucky to have had her in my life for as long as I did, that I had her for a mom. Some people lose their mom's before they're old enough to walk. B and I were both lucky enough to have had her to spend time with. It's kind of my "ah" moment.
So, yeah.
Some days I'm okay.
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