….and just like that 90 years go by (1)

How do we  mourn/grieve? We have all heard that everyone grieves differently, and I know that is true. I do wish there were a timeline, though. I am putting one foot in front of the other and I feel like I am not moving.

I’m not new to grief, I am only new to the grief of losing my mom.

10 days ago.

As we poured over old photos, I kept wanting to show her.  As we ate, I kept wanting to fix her a plate. As we told stories, I wanted to look over and see her enjoying herself.

The first week went by in a blur, but the past 3 days have been so dreadfully long.  I am keeping busy, but I’m tired.

I am trying to rationalize:

….. she was 90, after all.

….. we had her for a long time.

….. for the most part she was healthy.

right now  none of that matters.

I have never experienced such a deep sadness.

I have had this lump in my throat for 10 days and it wont go away.    My chest is tight.

Intellectually,  I know we all just need the time after we lose someone we love.

I’m the one who wrote the words;

“And miss her? Oh, we most surely will.  Try not to walk away sad today, but walk away today, thinking about how she led her life and walk away with a smile on your face because you were fortunate enough to have known her.” 

I can tell others to do that, but I haven’t quite reached that spot yet.  Why though, cant I. After all, I was and am so fortunate to have had the most time with her, all these years, my lifetime with her.

We had fun. We laughed. We confided. We shared. We grew. We depended. We planned. We accepted. We trusted.We cared. We loved. We lived.

I have to sit in her chair so that I don’t look at it empty.  I smell her. I don’t want to move anything she has touched.  It will seem too final. Her toothbrush is  still next to mine.  Her night light still shines, so I can see in her room.  Our vitamins, side by side in the cabinet. Her coffee cup, forever empty.  Her hair is still on her comb.  Her slippers are still by her bed…….I want them there….always. She got mail today.

I can not get the vision of her last breath out of my mind.  I hope it wasn’t painful, those last few days.  I want to ask her. I hope I did all that I could do.  Those last days, when she couldn’t talk and I kept telling her I loved her, I just wanted her to say it back, one more time.

I am suppose to start to get “back to normal” now……… but how?

I want her to hold me.

Please allow me to grieve through my words….right here…in this blog . where I left off with her story.. I will begin the journey of “Losing Mom

 

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “….and just like that 90 years go by (1)”

  1. Deb my heart breaks for you and hate you hurting so deeply but know you were an incrediable loving supporting daughter and you were both so lucky to have each other. Take all the time you need my dear friend as she was so much a part of your everyday life! Love to you all

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  2. I finally got up the nerve to read this. I knew it was the last. I didn’t want to acknowledge that finality. But your words were so beautifully heartfelt, all I can say for now.

    Sent from my Verizon, Samsung Galaxy smartphone

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  3. Oh my sister, through all our emotions, the one thing I want you to know most is; you were true to mom to the end
    . My own words to you are inadequate. You saw her last days through (never knowing when that actual last day would be), but you saw it all through with a determination to make it the best it could be. And you succeeded
    .

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  4. So sorry for your loss, Debbie. I haven’t had to deal with that loss yet and I don’t want to…but it will nonetheless arrive at some point in time. I think you gave your ALL to your Mom and I m sure that she recognized and appreciated that very much. We know it takes much time to grieve this tremendous loss…so take all the time you need and sit in her chair for as long as you want. Sending hugs to you, my old friend. You did well!!

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