March 7 marked the 1 year anniversary of my mom's death. I knew for a while I wanted to write about it but I was unsure what to write. And then the days started piling up. And here it is, almost April, and I don't think I am any closer to knowing what to write.
I was fortunate enough to take Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off from work in order to be fully present with my dad and brother. I can't say the day was marked by anything super special but I was able to go to church with my dad and *gasp* take communion for the first time in over a year. I made dinner, London broil and veggies. To be honest, most of the weekend my pervasive thought was about whether she knew her time was up. Did she know when I talked to her that afternoon that it was our last conversation?
It seems silly but maybe she did know. She told me Christmas of 2018 that she thought it was going to be her last Christmas. She told me she didn't know why she thought it but she said something was telling her that this was going to be it. I slightly held my breath until Christmas of 2019 and when she was still around, I breathed a sigh of relief. So maybe for 3 months she was living on borrowed time. But maybe she did know.
My other intrusive thought is wondering what she thought about as she died. Because no one will ever be able to present evidence to the contrary, I choose to believe that she was dead by the time she hit the floor. I imagine she thought about my dad, my brother, me, and probably the animals. I do wonder if she had any other thoughts. Did she think about regrets? Did she think about her life? Did she think about any deep, dark secrets? Did she maybe have no thoughts at all and just blacked out and never regained consciousness? Maybe she didn't know. I understand that these thoughts are not productive because they can literally never be answered. All they do is roll around my head like cinder blocks, crushing other thoughts and demanding my attention.
I think with all milestones we think about what has happened in the past year. Not just death anniversaries but birthdays, holidays, etc make us think of all that has happened in the year prior. Since her death coincides with the beginning of the pandemic, there is much to think about. I wonder what she would have thought of the mask mandates, the vaccine, the election, the events of January 6, the feral cats in my back yard, the houses being built in the neighborhood, my decision to not go back to school, the fact that I bought a pair of ripped jeans, the fact that I've been rocking a lot of leopard print lately, the fact that my wedding dress is shoved in a closet collecting dust, the fact that I have decided to permanently break up with the Methodist church, the fact that my nephew is almost as tall as me, the fact that my dad is now feeding a feral cat in his back yard, the fact that my place of employment has been broken into 4 times in the past 18 months and the fact that it has been over a year since I have stepped foot in my other job, the fact that I have been on antidepressants for over a year.
But the thing is, I don't really care about her opinion of those things. To be honest, I kinda already know how she feels about those things. What hurts is that I don't get to experience these things with her. I don't get to get into arguments about my clothes with her anymore. I don't get to talk about politics with her. I don't get to hear her begging me to get married before she dies. I don't get to make fun of her for being short. I don't get to hear her deep sighs when I say something outrageous. I don't get to send her photos of the dogs I meet at work. That is what hurts.
One of my worst fears is forgetting her voice. I don't know why I even think for a minute that I will forget, especially when I can still hear all 4 of my grandparents voices in my head. I cried the day I realized I still had 2 of her voicemails on my phone. I have photographs and memories (and hopefully soon a tattoo with her ashes in it). I already know she'd be mortified by that. But as I said before and will probably say again, "welp, you shouldn't have died on me, mom".
I have no doubt that she is still around. I see her in every cardinal. I see her in those photographs. I see her every time there is a prank pulled. I see her in my creative lesson plans. I see her every time I look in the mirror. And I know she had a hand in me running into her best friend at dinner.
I was hoping this would be more eloquent but it's stream of consciousness. Guess that's just where I am right now. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Thank you for the love you have given me this past year. This year has been tough on everyone. And for every person that reached out in big ways and small, I appreciate you. There is no way I will ever be able to repay the kindness shown. I just ask you to be kind to all, you never know when you are standing next to someone trying very hard not to fall apart.
