Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #50 - Disbelief

Mom at Dad's 50th birthday party
1985

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #50 - Disbelief

Hi Mom,

I still can't believe you're gone.

Fifty-one days have unspooled their threads of minutes and hours since you died, Mom, I have produced fifty of these ruminations on life, grief, and love in that time, and I am still not able to accept that you are not here, not alive. I still think when I call your house, you will be there. I still think I can visit and give you kisses. I hear your voice all the time. It doesn't make sense to me that you are gone.

In fifty days, I have had time to digest this life event, but I do not feel any closer to some kind of acceptance of it. I keep cycling around and around the disbelief without any epiphany. I could write about this disbelief every day on this blog, and I would not understand it any better.

I hear you, Mom. I hear you telling me about how you felt your whole life after your mom was gone.

"Gone" is a term that needs defining because you're gone and not gone at the same time. It's kind of like quantum physics.

People say that there stages to grief. I do not like believing that I am experiencing loss in stages, like everyone else, because I want to believe that my grief is unique, that my experience is unique. In a way, it is. My relationship with my mother is unique from all children's relationships with their mothers because both my mother and I are unique. And even though, my father and my sister can best understand what I am going through because they are going through something similar, still my grief is unique because my relationship with you, Mom, was different than theirs.

There's a tautology to these feelings I am having lately. They cycle around and around the same idea. How can you be gone? You can't really be gone? I don't believe you're gone. Am I going to wake up? This isn't reality, is it? How am I going to make sense of the world without you in it? Answer: I can't because you can't be gone.

There's no new normal. And yet, I am surrounded by normal. The world goes on, and yet your world has stopped, and I cannot believe it's true.

And so it goes.

And like that tautology, I will be back here tomorrow with more content that continues our life-long conversation, Mom.

I really miss you a lot more today than yesterday.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.

Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

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- Days ago = 51 days ago


- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1508.24 - time

- PS: Yes, I know I am re-using some pictures, but putting these in here felt right. Plus, I am off to Car Pool Beer Club soon.