Too soon.
March 3rd, 2010Days fly by. Yet I feel them drag. I sometimes stop whatever I’m doing. Just pause. And it all rushes back to me without any warning. It’s easy to forget it seems. I find myself thinking she’s just in the hospital, or the next room. But it never takes long to remember. Yesterday I asked my grandmother a question, and without pausing, she said, “Does Karen not know?” It made my heart hurt to hear her say that. So much.
It doesn’t matter how many hours of sleep I get, I still feel tired. Drained. I toss and turn at night. And I don’t remember dreaming much. Sometimes I think I’m forgetting what she looked like healthy, walking, or laughing. The only thing that lingers in my mind is how sickly she appeared, but I know I can’t remember her that way. I try not to, but it’s been so long. So I yearn to dream about her. In hopes of just getting a glimpse of what it used to be like.
I want to share so much with her. I catch myself thinking, I need to tell, or show mommie that, and usually I remember then, because little things takes my mind away for short periods of time. Whether it be through reading, watching tv, or little things like that that takes up my attention. I’m not prepared to live life without her. Sure, I can talk to her all the time, and she’ll listen, but it’s not the same. It never will be. It’s too soon.
Small bouts of panic comes up suddenly, too. I’ll be folding laundry, or cooking, or just entering the living room she stayed in, and I’ll comprehend that she isn’t there to hold on to, or see, or hear.
Memories of when things were so much better keep flying through my head, and burying themselves painfully into me. I remember these stages of my life, separated by years, moving, people, or actions. Change happens so often, so unexpectedly. Why can’t life just pause for a while? So you can hold on to someone…because you might wake up one morning to find them gone, and the regrets, guilt, and what-if’s tearing into you relentlessly. I just wish I knew what happened. If there was nothing to be done - some sort of reassurance it’s better this way.
I try to tell myself that, that it’s better. But it’s not. My mother is gone. My rock, my hero, my listener, and heart. We were attached at the hip with that special relationship not many mother’s and daughter’s have. We had few secrets, could talk about anything, and she always knew what to say or do to make it better. And she’s not here anymore…It’s just too soon.