mom
So. I know I’ve been slacking on the blogging but I’ve had a really good excuse.
My worst nightmare came true on December 9, 2010. My mom passed away in a car accident. Now I have this huge hole in my chest.
My chest is constantly aching, I feel hollow. I can’t even think of a word to describe the grief that I’ve felt since that day.
Everything was finally working for me, I was finally content with my life and the quality of it. Glenn and are were starting to talk about a date for our wedding and I started looking for wedding dresses. We were gonna get married and move to Houma and have the life that I’ve always dreamt of having with that man that is the love of my life.
But now, I don’t have my mom to share my hopes and dreams with. I don’t have anyone to vent to about old people drivers or talk to about my wedding dress or the wonderful thing Glenn did for me that day. Who am I gonna spout random facts to about nothing at all…and have someone listen to you and not look at you like you’re stupid. I can’t hear her laugh and hug her anymore. I can barely even get into a car at my worst.
She’s gone. I have a 13 year old now, a dad that doesn’t understand anything and has compassion the size of a friggin mustard seed.
And it’s NOT the same thing as faith in that area.
To top everything off, my car’s a piece of crap and now I’m having to ride to work with my boss, which is fine, but I want my own car. My mom was right, once you taste independance that’s all you want. She was right about so much.
There’s so much that I’m missing now. My person is gone. She was my person. She was my rock, my stronghold when I had no one else. The person who would not judge me or look at me wrong if I said something that wasn’t tasteful, or even when I was straight up horrible.
There is NOTHING I can do about it, and not knowing exactly what happened when the dumptruck hit her little Hyundai Elantra, or how exactly it happened, or if she made it to the hospital or what. This will haunt me for the rest of my life.
When I pulled her bloody jacket out of her destroyed car, I just stood there with it in my hand, because I knew in that one moment that…that was the closest I was ever going to be to my mother again. The beautiful woman that gave me life, and made me proud to be the person that I am today.
I can’t even go into her bedroom without bursting out into tears, and as I held her in my lap in her little box on my way home from the funeral home, I watched the trees passing, all the houses and cars and people walking the streets thinking…these people don’t know what I’m going through. My mom is in a box. a 6”X8” box on the top of her entertainment center in her bedroom.
It’s hard to even think about that, or fathom it. I wait for her to call me and work and ask me to pick her up a bag of catfood afterwork.
That won’t happen anymore.
I won’t hear her voice, or her laugh.
How will I deal?
