Love and Hope, Sadness and Grief

I think of you when I wake up... usually as I am in the shower, getting ready for another day, or doing my make-up...

I think of you when I am laughing at Abaigeal, when she does something adorable or new, something funny or endearing...

I think of you when I am having a good day and want to share it with someone...

I think of you when I am having a horrible day and want to crawl into bed, cry and sleep the day away...

I think of you when I need advice and have no one to call...

I think of you when I pick up the phone to call Dad, or Nana, or anyone who I try to turn to, when the one person I need is no longer here...

I think of you when I accomplish something and want you to be proud of me...

I think of you when I make mistakes and know you would not be so proud of me, but you would still love me anyway...

I think of you when I hear certain songs on the radio, mostly country songs that always make me cry...

I think of you when I write to Mikie in jail, or recieve letters back from him (I wish we could talk about it)...

I think of you when I see your paintings on my wall or your photos on my refrigerator...

I think of you when I go to sleep, always hoping that I will get to have a dream of you...

Sometimes I am filled with anger.

anger at God... or the universe... or whatever caused this...

anger at Mike, for being so irresponsible, for making me feel so insignificant that I don't even deserve a phone call or a response, for treating you the way he treated you...

anger at you for not eating better and being more pro-active...

anger at myself for not forcing you to see a doctor about your foot...

anger at myself for not giving you a hug goodbye when I had the chance...

Sometimes I am filled with gratitude.

gratitude for the life and the love you gave me...

gratitude that we were so close, that I could truly call you my friend...

gratitude for having you to plan my wedding with, watch me get married, meet my daughter, teach me the beginnings of motherhood...

gratitude for showing me what it means to accept yourself...

gratitude for your laughter and sense of humour....

gratitude for my beautiful amazing little girl...

gratitude for my family and friends...

gratitude for the book you wrote and the smiles and laughs it gives me...

gratitude for women like Ellie who have helped guide me through this...

gratitude for the role model you have been...

gratitude for the memories...

Sometimes I am filled with hope.

hope for the things I will do with my life...

hope for Abaigeal and the life she will have...

hope that there is something, anything, after we die...

hope that you are looking over us...

hope that I am making you proud...

hope that I will see you again someday...

hope that Mikie will someday recover...

hope that James will get through these difficult years and have an amazing future...

hope that someday I will feel truly happy again....

Sometimes I am filled with sadness.

Sadness that I can not describe and will not try.

Through it all I am always filled with love. Love from you and for you. And that love will carry me through.

Up and Down

I have heard grief described as ocean like, heard that you can sometimes be knocked over by the waves. I read somewhere else about "grief attacks". I think, over a year later, this is the first time I felt like a wave came out of no where and just knocked me over. I thought I was doing so good. I have tried to focus on myself, do things for myself, follow one of my dreams and I felt really good about it. But I knew this thing was bothering me. Maybe it was just that one thing, or maybe a combination of all the things that seem to keep happening, but whatever it was has been nagging. I have tried to call people in my family to talk about it. They know what is going on, so I turn to them for advice. But it never feels comfortable. I feel more like a nuisance or a hassle trying to ask for help with this. It never ever once felt that way when I called my mom. I keep trying and trying to figure out what she would want me to do right now, I have two opposite choices in how I can handle it, and for the life of me I don't know what she wants. So tonight I guess this wave that has been building and building finally broke and caught me off guard. If things happen for a reason, then her dying should mean that I am strong enough to get through this alone and to depend on myself, but times like this just feel plain lonely. I know as time continues to move, the good days and the positive moments should feel longer and the sudden outbursts of crying should lessen, but it still just stinks.
Okay, a disclaimer for anyone who actually reads this blog. I am not constantly sad and crying even though you might think I am nothing but a complainer by reading these posts. It's just that when it is really getting me, I write about it, and then it paints a skewed picture of me. Tonight is one of those sad nights, I will try to set myself a goal to write something the next time I am feeling really good. I swear I am not so depressing all the time!!

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these moments, these memories...

I have sat down at my computer, wanted to write something, and walked away a number of times in the past week. I suppose I am ready now. Ready to acknowledge that "the day" has passed. It has now officially been over a year since my mom died. At first you count in days, then in months, and now I join the women who count in years.
It was a difficult weekend, for more reasons then just the anniversary. But to try and be positive, I spent some nice time with my Nana, my little brothers and my Uncle Brendan. We went to stay at mom's camp Saturday night. It was one of her favorite places, she always talked about it and I only went there once when she was alive. At first, I was, well for lack of a better word, pissed. When we went in there were dirty dishes everywhere and moldy food on the counter and in the refrigerator, an unmade bed... just a mess. This, if you knew my mom, was not her at all. She would have flipped out to see it that way, and you wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near her if you had left it that way. So I was hurt that my step sister has used the camp and not taken care of it. But, we all cleaned until it was sparkling again, the way my mom would have. And overall, we all did okay. We had a fire and made s'mores and roasted hotdogs. In the morning, we went to breakfast at an adorable little place in the small town up the road. It was exactly the kind of place my mom would have loved and the food was great so it made me feel good to go there. Then we walked around the shops... Now, the one time I had gone to the camp when she was alive she asked me to go with her and walk around Bolton (we could shop little quaint stores together all day long), but I turned her down and told her I wanted to go the village of Lake George with Chad instead and had her babysit. I still have regret about it. I would give anything to have one more memory with her... but I guess that is beside the point. So I did go to Bolton, a year after she died. I loved the shops, and of course thought of her non-stop. Then we went back to the camp to meet my grandparents for a visit. It was nice, just sitting on the porch talking to them. And though I had planned to come back to Rochester that night, I just couldn't. I stayed at Dad's again.

This of course brings up a whole new topic. I have this yearning or urge to move. I know I have played with the idea over the past year, but everyone told me not to make a decision like that within the first year, and rightfully so. But a year is over, and here it is again, pulling at me. I can't quite identify it... is it partly my own want of a distraction? a kind of running away? will it be harder for me to move to her area and be even more reminded of her everyday or comforted by the family I will have to surround me and the ability to visit the cemetery anytime I want? do I want to move back to that area or just move in general, say to somewhere like New England where I have always said I wanted to live? So much is happening in my family right now, and I think part of me feels the pull to move because I want to take care of them, be there for them... but how much will that be a detriment to me? I can't replace her, I can't do what she could do for them or be who she was to them...

It's just an itch right now. I play around with it in my mind. It would be a huge decision, it would mean selling my house and being wiling to live in an apartment again until I was settled enough to get a house wherever I end up, and it would mean navigating my job in a new place which would be a huge change... but I don't know... it is tempting.

So, a year ago today the wake had just ended. I believe at this time I was at my uncle's bar drinking a shot of Jameson (lol, maybe not the best thing to do after a wake but I did sleep very deeply as soon as I got in the car). I have read other people's posts about losing their moms and some people say how it feels like they are living in a dream now, like they expect to wake up from it sometimes.... I feel like that sometimes. Or maybe not even that, it just feels different now. Everything about life feels different. But I am trying to be positive when I can. If this is the path that I was given to walk, how can I do it well, with my head held high and with a little girl looking up to me? I wonder what my next step on this journey should be?

These things I know... I will enjoy my amazing daughter, she can bring light to any dark day. I will follow my dreams, no matter how unreachable they may seem. I will try to enjoy the little things. I will try to forgive others and myself for anything that needs forgiving. I will try to be the daughter my mom would be proud of. I will keep her in my heart at all times.