My Grief Blanket

It has been 1 year since my dad called and told me my mom had cancer.

I remember it very clearly. I remember where I was. I remember knowing, before my dad told me, that something was wrong because my mom was always the voice on the other end when "Mom and Dad" popped up on my phone. It was the first time in my life I have ever heard my dad cry. I remember listening, having a million questions swirling but not being able to form any of them into cohesive sentences that made sense. I remember hanging up the phone and bawling and immediately googling everything I could recollect from the conversation and knowing it was not good. I remember texting my sisters "have you talked to dad today?" It was such a hard day.

Only a year ago we found out she was sick... and now she has been gone for almost 7 months.

In some ways it feels like 7 long horrible months. She has been gone for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. She has not been here for my birthday or dad's birthday or one of my kid's birthdays. She was gone for her mom's and dad's birthdays. She has missed her anniversary and my anniversary.

She was not here for the birth of my child. That is so, so hard.

She has already been gone from this earth for so many occasions that it feels like she has been gone so long... yet... the pain and sadness is still so fresh and real and hard that it feels like she died yesterday.

Grief has been a hard thing for me to learn to navigate.

I am a checklist girl. They talk about the "Stages of Grief" and to me that meant, I do a stage (like anger) and then it is checked off and I move on to the next stage. But grief doesn't really move in stages... not like I thought it would. It should be called the "Grief Cycle".  Stages implies that you complete it and move on, but really, you may move on to another aspect of grief, but you are going to circle back around and experience again... maybe a 100 times. Grief for me just seems to be never ending and ever changing.

I have been surprised at how some things have caught me completely off guard when it comes to grief.

I went home for Christmas. I knew this was going to be hard... and as much as I truly wanted to be there with my dad, I dreaded it. It would be the first time that I had to go home and she was not going to be there. I prepared myself as best as I could... but man, there are just some things that caught me off guard.

My mom had about 9 million pair of dollar store reading glasses. She was always losing them. And where ever she sat in her house there were always a pair of glasses within reach. When we got to mom and dad's house, I walked into the bedroom to but down luggage and I walked past a little box full of all of my mom's reading glasses. For some reason that very odd, non-sentimental thing is what made it really real for me. And it was so hard.

I was in the bathroom looking for something and opened the top drawer and her toothbrush and hairbrush were there... just as they always have been... and I broke.

There were a lot of hard moments...hard conversations while we were home. But there were also a lot of laughs and smiles and good memories made.

I feel like I have a lot of weird grieving things...

-I can't go through the box of stuff I brought back with me when we left from the funeral.

-I can't bring myself to take my mom's obituary/funeral program sheet out of my purse.

-I get very angry anytime I see a commercial for cancer treatments with happy smiling people talking with their doctors and living their lives. Like... really- leave the room-angry.

-I have some costume jewelry of my mom's that I find myself wearing to events and thinking "taking mom to the Kennedy Center" or "taking mom to the White House"

-I find myself constantly trying to make her proud... when I never consciously did that when she was alive

-I get offended when I hear the phrase "I kicked Cancer's A**" Like somehow my mom didn't try hard enough so that's why she didn't live (totally irrational, I know)

-When I see other people that get diagnosed and people say encouraging things like "you are strong, you can beat this" I want to immediately jump in and say... it doesn't matter! My mom fought harder than anyone... sometimes cancer just wins.

-It is hard for me to talk to people who loved her most about her... I don't know why

-I have an irrational fear of people around me (my husband and children in particular) dying

-When something is wrong with me or anyone I love, my first thought is always "is it cancer?"

-I have a lot of guilt about maybe not being the daughter that she needed

-I have guilt about not being home more

-When I see cottage cheese in the store, it makes me cry (when my mom had sores in her mouth it was one of the few things she could eat)

-I want to work really hard to not let people forget my mom
-I get choked up when I take pictures of my kids with my dad and my mom isn't in it

-I can't bring myself to do anything for a cancer organization... even though I think I want to... it is just too hard

Grief is different for everyone.

Something I have discovered through this grieving process is that my mom was a different person for each of her children, and we are all grieving a different aspect of her.

I have so many times I think, "I should call and ask mom..." and then remember I can't. This week I just wanted to call and ask her when she knew my sister was a lefty because I think Jax might be a lefty. There are so many things I just want to ask her and I want to share with her that I will never get to this side of heaven. And dang it... it's just hard!

I've decided that grief, for me, has been like a blanket. Some days it is all consuming. I am completely covered and wrapped in it and it totally consumes me. Some days, I embrace it for just a bit. I have a good cry, sometimes I call someone and sometimes I sit alone... but I don't spend my entire day under the blanket. And some days I see the blanket... but it is a nice sunny day and I can just look at the blanket and know that it is there, but choose not to get under it.

If you are grieving... whether it has been 7 minutes, 7 days, 7 weeks, 7 months, 7 years, or 7 decades... don't let anyone make you feel like there is a right or wrong way to do it. Grief is personal and everyone does it differently.

I love my mom. I miss my mom. And not everyday is overwhelmingly hard, but today I'm just wrapped up in my grief blanket.

Life here on earth is a journey we all venture through... good and the bad and the hard... thanks for joining me on mine.