Counting...

I remember when Dad died, Mom counted the days, then months, then years. It seemed odd, to me, at the time for her to be so aware of how long it had been.

And now?

Now I get it. I find myself thinking, "Mom's been gone for two weeks."

And then I think, "Two weeks?" It just doesn't seem possible. It feels like she is still just a phone call away.

I'm doing OK, I guess. I received a book about Grief in the mail (from who I don't know) and I've been reading it with my eyes wide open. You never really understand grief until your knee deep in it.

I feel bad because I didn't understand Mom's grief with regards to dad. Sure, I missed dad. But he wasn't my every day conversation. He was the man I loved who raised me. I miss him. But not the same way Mom would have.

Now, with Mom gone, I get it. I totally get it. I feel like my right hand has been removed. To say there's a hole in my heart that will never be filled, seems like a cliche...and yet so very accurate.

Most my meltdowns happen at night. They happen when I settle into bed and my mind starts to slow down a bit. I start to think about everything I've been doing to settle Mom's estate and then it hits me like a ton of books.

Her phone rang the other night. It was The Niece. When I texted her and asked why she was calling Grandma, she said, "I forgot. I used to call her on my way home all the time." That broke my heart. I told her I'd be that call now if she needs it, but to understand, and be reminded, that other people are grieving her loss is just as difficult as grieving myself.

Mom and The Niece