Drinking in the Afternoon

You know what I did today? I drank wine out of a mug so my son wouldn’t question me.  It was 12:30 in the afternoon.  I was feeling so depressed that I thought it might help. It was that second mug that finally put a dent in it.

I realize that the trauma of my mother dying is making me depressed. Very understandable. This may be the most normal reaction I’ve ever had to anything.

I have to get my act together. I think it’s the three weeks on overdrive trying to make her feel comfortable, help my family and come to grips with her dying. Now with nothing left to do I feel like I’ve fallen off the edge of a cliff. That’s when the  depression set in.

It’s “normal”, but when have I ever been normal?


Walking Through Mud

Please excuse me if I my post is incoherent. I’m half-drunk with the wine I’ve been drinking since 10pm. I didn’t start out planning to get drunk. I was just trying to wait out my family in order to get some peace and quiet.

Oldest visiting daughter, Emily, went to bed at 10pm. Allison, the youngest, wanted to stay up until midnight. I let her stay up. Just as the ball dropped my husband came home!

After discussing the recent death of my mother, he wanted to know why there wasn’t a funeral. She didn’t want one.

He wanted to know why there wasn’t an obituary. She didn’t want one.

Why don’t I print up some photos and have them at the “Memorial”? She didn’t want that.

It’s hard enough trying to wrap my mind around what has happened in the last two weeks let alone try to experience it with someone who doesn’t understand the nuances and complications of my mother’s and my relationship.

It’s actually pretty simple to me, I loved her and I miss her already.

My Mum

My mum died yesterday. I saw her body and the realization fell on me. She’s really not here anymore. I feel scared. That’s the last feeling I thought I’d feel. I’m a grown woman with a family of my own and I’m scared my mother isn’t here anymore. What if I need her?

Never Agains

I am crocheting and thinking.  I crochet a dish cloth for my sister once every three or four years.  This one is a reddish pinkish color.  I contemplate whether it is a tomato or real red while my mother lies dying in her hospital bed.   All I have done the last three days is think.  I stare and think.

Someone said to me the other day when they found out that my mother was dying,

“Well, we all have to go through it don’t we?”

“No, “we” don’t”, I thought, “You have know idea how I am feeling. My mother isn’t like yours.  She is amazing, smart, funny, interesting. She makes you feel like you are the only one in the world that matters.”

I’ve been like this all week.  Anything someone says I take it as a personal affront.  Everything is just trivial now.  Bills, work, going the speed limit, laundry.

Does everyone feel like this when their mother dies?  I had no idea.  I was always sympathetic, but I had no idea it was so debilitating emotionally.  The sadness is almost overwhelming.

All those “never agains” just keep piling up in the back of my mind.

Terminal Diagnosis

My mom was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer today and I want to rewind time to last Saturday when life was trivial.

We have had rocky times especially in the last fifteen years or so.  When I talk to her now in between her dementia and pain she is the sweet, funny, smart mother that she often wasn’t.  I am grateful that I can at least get that mother now.  Of course, that is what makes it even more poignant.

All that wasted time.