Note: I wrote this post on September 22nd, 14 days after my Mom died. I've been sharing parts of this process on my blog, but in order to protect myself, I am sharing them a couple of weeks or so after I wrote them. I want to be able to look back at these posts and see how I've grown... Besides, the emotion seems less sharp and raw a couple of weeks later. Perhaps this is my way of gaining perspective. So, ignore scattered thoughts. Ignore poor grammar and punctuation. These words were a pure stream of emotion.
Today marks 14 days since my Mom died and I still don't think I fully understand, or even partly understand, what that means. I still find myself asking the question, "Did this really just happen?" But it did. Just two weeks ago my sister screamed into the phone, "She's dead, Kylee. She's dead."
My heart dropped.
My world stopped turning.
From that moment on, I've had a dull headache at the back of my neck.
My stomach always feels week - it's as if I put anything in it, it just might not stay down. There are so many physical manifestations of grief.
The shock and the rapid heart beat has been replaced with a piercing pain that seems to magnify itself each time I think to pick up my phone to call her.
I go to bed thinking about her; thinking about her accident and crafting illustrations in my mind. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about her; wondering if all of this is real. And I wake up in the morning and before I can even eek out a first thought my heart and my head remind me that she's gone.
I'm 14 days in and it hurts.
The sadness is like an invisible cape that I wear all day long. Some people can see it; others can't.
Today was my first day back to work, back in the exact same location that I was when I got the call. The daily-calendar on my desk was still on September 9th and I couldn't stop my brain from looking at the clock 200 times today and remembering exactly where I was and what I was doing on that Monday that my Mom woke up, put her makeup on, left her house and died in a car accident.
Today wasn't easy.
I walked into work, not bravely. I called my little sister and I made her talk to me lest any co-workers see me and want to say hello. I drank far too much tea and I didn't even want to get up and walk to the restroom, again, for fear that someone sees me, talks to me, offers their condolences and I crumble.
Still, I crumbled.
There were those who were brave enough to knock on my door; those kind souls who wanted to tell me that they'd be praying for me; that they felt for me; that they cared. And, in some sort of awkward exchange for their kindness I immediately folded and cried. That's pretty much how it is for me these days -- you offer some gentleness and I will immediately cry in response.
Going back to life after something like this just doesn't feel right.
Life is different. Truly.
It feels disloyal and it feels trivial and insignificant.
It's hard to wrap my brain around my job right now because, well... because.
I understand that I'm still here and that I'm still living and that life is theoretically incredible and I have an awesome husband and two adorable little ladies, but I'm so sad.
I'm just so sad.
I'm sad all the time. The smile on my face isn't fake; it's well-intentioned, but behind it is the sharpest icicle of sadness that feels as if it plunges itself into my heart numerous times throughout the day.
I suppose this is the ugly side of grief. (As if there's a pretty side...)
At this point I feel sad. That's all there is to it. I miss her intensely.
She was part of my everyday life and I'm truly taken aback that I can't just dial her phone number and reach her. I'm shocked.
The amount of times that I think about her throughout the day is more than likely commensurate with the amount of exhales that I take - and that number has got to be in the high hundreds.
It's been 2 weeks and I'm overcome.
I don't feel normal and I don't WANT to feel normal yet. I want to feel each and every emotion that goes along with this because I feel that's fair to my Mom. I don't want to get a hall pass and sob from my soul later, I want to do it now. Because in my slightly warped mind, that's what she deserves.
She was incredible.
SHE DESERVES TEARS.
She was kind of annoying sometimes. And I'd roll my eyes. Still,
SHE DESERVES TEARS.
She was the first person to love me, to discipline me, to hug me.
This is why she DESERVES tears.
And, I'll say it again, if I had the opportunity, I'd never want her alive again; living the life she was living.
Instead, I want to just hug her again.
Laugh with her again.
I want my phone to ring and I want to hear, "Kylee?" and I want to say, "Hey Mom, what up?"
It's far too final for my liking.
The Story of Loss. On Losing my Mom.
September 9, 2013 :: The day I found out :: Post here.
September 16, 2013 :: It's One Week today :: Post here.