I'm not dead yet!
Oh yes, here I am, months and months after my last post.
I have nothing to say and I don't know why I'm here but I'm trying to avert some kind of breakdown so talking would seem to be the way to do that. Only I have nobody to talk to. Except myself. And that gets old. So I'll talk to some supposed person out there who might perchance read this. Oh, there's the dogs. But they don't understand. They just look at me like "give us food, let us out, throw sticks, rub our bellies...". Self-absorbed little brats, really.
Hey, if you want to try something fun, hyperventilate then crawl into a dark corner of someone's walk-in closet, go completely blank for a while and then resume life as normal. What did you do during those blank moments? Who will ever really know? Except maybe the people who were there at the time. I guess you just have to trust that if you were an idiot in your blankness, they won't tell anyone because they're (a) good friends or (b) keeping it to themselves in order to blackmail you at some later date. Pray there are no photos.
So, Monday is the day. Somewhere between 4 and 5 in the afternoon. I don't recall the exact time. I suppose I could look on the death certificate thingie, but that would be morbid and I don't really need to know. I can still feel her hand in mine, hear her breathing as her life slipped away, feel the way her hair felt when I brushed it back from her face. The feeling in my gut when I realized she'd just taken her last breath. The complete and utter cold that slammed me when I realized that never again would I be able to ... well, do anything at all with her. No shopping, no arguing with her over buying me stuff, no more cooking her dinner, no more poking gentle fun at her for her little habits and quirks. It's amazing how quickly the guilt sets in, how easily you can suddenly remember all the not-so-nice things you said. And how much you wish you'd told her you loved her more times. Made her really understand. I tell her now. I tell her I love her and miss her and I hope that somewhere she hears me.
People used to say "I wouldn't be able to stand it if I lost my mom". But you do. I mean, really, what choice do you have? You just carry on. But it's not the same. Everything out there is bright and too shiny and hard to look at. Hard to live with. After all this time, all four years, it's better. Mostly.
I need to go throw things out now.
I have nothing to say and I don't know why I'm here but I'm trying to avert some kind of breakdown so talking would seem to be the way to do that. Only I have nobody to talk to. Except myself. And that gets old. So I'll talk to some supposed person out there who might perchance read this. Oh, there's the dogs. But they don't understand. They just look at me like "give us food, let us out, throw sticks, rub our bellies...". Self-absorbed little brats, really.
Hey, if you want to try something fun, hyperventilate then crawl into a dark corner of someone's walk-in closet, go completely blank for a while and then resume life as normal. What did you do during those blank moments? Who will ever really know? Except maybe the people who were there at the time. I guess you just have to trust that if you were an idiot in your blankness, they won't tell anyone because they're (a) good friends or (b) keeping it to themselves in order to blackmail you at some later date. Pray there are no photos.
So, Monday is the day. Somewhere between 4 and 5 in the afternoon. I don't recall the exact time. I suppose I could look on the death certificate thingie, but that would be morbid and I don't really need to know. I can still feel her hand in mine, hear her breathing as her life slipped away, feel the way her hair felt when I brushed it back from her face. The feeling in my gut when I realized she'd just taken her last breath. The complete and utter cold that slammed me when I realized that never again would I be able to ... well, do anything at all with her. No shopping, no arguing with her over buying me stuff, no more cooking her dinner, no more poking gentle fun at her for her little habits and quirks. It's amazing how quickly the guilt sets in, how easily you can suddenly remember all the not-so-nice things you said. And how much you wish you'd told her you loved her more times. Made her really understand. I tell her now. I tell her I love her and miss her and I hope that somewhere she hears me.
People used to say "I wouldn't be able to stand it if I lost my mom". But you do. I mean, really, what choice do you have? You just carry on. But it's not the same. Everything out there is bright and too shiny and hard to look at. Hard to live with. After all this time, all four years, it's better. Mostly.
I need to go throw things out now.
posted by Shelley at 1:20 PM
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