Mom

In my 28 years on this planet, I've led a life mostly free of real tragedy and sorrow in comparison to many people in the world. I consider myself very fortunate. Raised in a safe suburb in a upper-middle class family, I had lost very few family members or friends throughout the years. When my aunt Joy died in July from lung cancer, I remembered thinking that this was the beginning of a long series of losses and funerals that I would be attending for basically the rest of my life. Both my immediate and extended family were getting older and that's just the way it goes. I figured I'd better just get used to it. Well, there was no way to ever prepare myself for my mom dying last week.




Both my parents have been mostly healthy throughout the years, even as they approach their mid-60s. Both are active, take good care of themselves and make level-headed choices. I had always figured they'd both be around for quite a while. Never expected an accident such as this.

I feel crushed. Utterly lost. Disconnected and numb.

I'm having a really hard time accepting the fact that it was a true accident and there is no villain here, no one to focus blame and anger on. It was dark and rainy. She was crossing the street by our house in Edgewood. She was wearing dark clothing. 4 people in the truck, none saw her. She somehow didn't see or hear the truck. Now she's gone. Nothing makes sense anymore.

My mom was a huge, huge part of my life. There's really no understating it. She raised me to be the respectful, thoughtful and sensitive person that I consider myself to be. She and my dad did an exemplary job of raising my sister and me. Almost too good of a job. We've both probably had it a bit too easy and they definitely spoiled us a bit, but it was solely out of love and a desire for both of us to succeed and live happy lives. I really cannot complain, but I also understand how lucky I am.

She always made time for me when I was a kid. I remember back in grade school, the two of us would usually go out somewhere on Friday afternoons after I got home from school to run errands, maybe get some silly new toy, get dinner somewhere....it really didn't matter what we did or where we went. We were together. Mother and son. That's important when you're young, to get that kind of one-on-one attention. I feel like that sort of thing helped me become more socially independent naturally as I grew older.

The things that are hurting me the most right now, the things that are keeping me up at night are the things that I know I will miss out on or never get back now that she's gone. I'll never get another 4 minute plus voice mail from her detailing some intricate process. I'd gladly listen to one of those right now. I'll never again get to hear the excitement in her voice when she greets my dog. I'll never again get to hear her yell at my dad for teasing Cassie too much about something silly. I'd write more about how I'll miss out on her being involved in my eventual wedding some day and when I hopefully have a kid of my own, but it honestly hurts too god damn much to even think about it much right now. Even trying to get through Christmas without her leaves me at a loss for words right now.

This has become more personal than intended, but I'm hoping this will help me process things.

Her memorial service is this Sunday in Edgewood. She has been cremated. Her physical being is gone from this world. That is still really, really hard for me to grasp.

Don't expect an honest answer from me if you ask me how I'm doing. I'm not okay and I'm not going to be okay for a long time it seems. And I know this sounds awful, but I'm starting to get fatigued and burnt out on all the condolence talks I've been having. It's really weird. I know people want to help, but they don't really know how. I know that half of it is people just trying to process the loss themselves. So if you called me or talked to me and I sounded annoyed or abrupt, I am sorry. I'm trying my best.

My mom lost her mother to stomach cancer when she was only 19 and she turned out okay. That gives me some comfort that I'll be okay, too. And I still have so much to be thankful for: my incredible father, my dear sweet sister, my loving and eternally supportive girlfriend and my sassy, half-crazy dog, just to name a few things.

I love you, mom. I miss you. Forever and ever.