It's probably not fair.

But I still think of you every time I'm in bed alone. I think of how you laid next to me, and the space between us seemed as endless as it is now. But the sparks, and the twitching fingers, the anticipation of the first kiss... I miss it.

I miss you.  I loved you.

I feel like there's no way around it. You're a centerpiece in the chapters 20-24 of my life. I would have done anything for you. And you're moving on... I watch you slowly spiral into someone I don't know at all. Someone who I don't recognize.

But I still think of you how you were. How we were. How you could guess my thoughts and finish my sentence. I miss your laughter. I miss your voice. I miss you.

Things that I love.

Nanci; a short, unfinished list

Crooked teeth
Voice
Warm hugs
Laugh
Hair... even the peach fuzz once the chemo took over
Hands; her fingers
Flannel shirts
Mom jeans
Sneakers
Books; so many books
Generous to a fault
Love of Christ
Love of neighbors
Love of family

Most of all... that I felt loved.

Regrets

"Regrets collect like old friends... here to relive your darkest moments."

I regret not telling my mom good-bye the day before she died.

I regret knowing it was the last time I'd see her, and not kissing her and telling her I love her.

I regret being afraid of her death.

I regret not advocating for her when I visited and saw her health deteriorating.

I regret not getting her flannel shirt from the bags of clothes destined for the thrift store.

I regret not begging her to stay one more day when she left me in Nebraska; I regret wanting to be an adult.

So many more regrets....

I wish I could get this devil off my back.

I thought that I was okay...

I thought I was feeling better.
I thought that the pain was just fleeting
Fleeting, not constant

It was buried.
It was still here.
The cancer... is a cancer.

It's still here.
Closing in on me.
Metastasizing.

The thing about grief...

The thing about grief is that it's never-ending. People who don't know, will tell you it gets easier. People who do know will sit in silence while you express your fears, your guilt, the constant hum of their missing presence in your life.

My only advice?
Ignore the ones who don't know.
While it is nice to have someone acknowledge your pain, it's also often more harmful than good (Oh, you 'know' how close we were? Well, I 'know' that you don't!).

My dad said yesterday that it's time for him to move on.

Move on...
What does that mean? How come he can... after 30 years... and I can't? Susie told me she 'moved on' after three months. I know my brother hasn't. I know I haven't.

The thing about grief is that it's okay not to move on. I've forgiven myself for my selfishness over this situation. I have wonderful friends who let me have my release. They let me tell the whole story. Because it hurts to hold it in. And they understand. It's an exchange. Something we do for each other.

The thing about grief is that often, people laud you for having a family to lean on. What they don't understand is that you don't want to make it hard for your family. You don't want others to feel the stress of your situation. I'd rather hold it in than see my brother cry or hurt.

The thing about grief is that you need to take your time. My sister looks at me strangely when I speak of therapy appointments and anxiety and stress and situational depression. She lost a mother as well. But I lost a close friend a week before my mother to a vicious cancer that was unrelenting. I lost a grandfather figure (one I loved more than my own flesh and blood grandfathers) two years before. I lost a baby - one I was so excited to welcome to the world. One that I wouldn't abort, that I wouldn't feel years of guilt about. One that would know my love. I lost my faith.

So yes, it will take me a while to grieve for all my losses.  But the thing about grief is that it is okay.

Omnipresent...

I really, really, really hope that my mom can't see or know what I'm up to.
I know what everyone says. "Oh, she'll be with you always."
Um, I hope not. Is she with me in the bathroom? Does she watch me be 'intimate' with Anthony?
I'm blushing... profusely! at the thought.

Does she know that I once loved a girl more than I've ever loved a boy?
Does she know that I won't be as close to 'them' because of their gossip about me?
Does she know that I wrote off about twenty friends, including my 'bestie' -
All because I would rather have a few close ones than the inquiring questions of
Fake, processed, and self-absorbed beasts?

I wonder... does she approve? Did she know all along?
Does she know I have higher hopes than working all of my life?
That when I see women with Tiffany bracelets and yachts, I think, that will be me?
I hope not. If she knows my thoughts... she knows how truly self-centered I am.
And that's not how she raised me.

Defining.

It's really difficult.
People don't understand that her death - it defines me. When I introduce myself to people, I want to say, 'Hello, my name is Mary. 25 years old, Virgo. Motherless, as of 10 months ago.'

This isn't something that is a 'tragedy'. It's not something to 'get over'. This was cancer. And the disease, it's still there. It's weaving its way through my thoughts daily. I hate it. I hate it. 


I saw a woman at the store today. She looked just like my mom. I hate her. I hate her for having the same hair cut as my mom. For being the same height. For wearing glasses. For making me fall apart inside in public. For causing the familiar throbbing burn in the back of my throat.

How do you explain these things... to people who haven't lost a mother? To people who are defined by career or by parties or by Jesus or by smiles?

How do you explain the sleepless nights. The anger. The medication that just makes me feel crazier.
I MISS MY MOM.
I miss her so damn much.
I miss her smell. I miss her voice. I miss her hugs. I miss her silence. I miss her when I watch the same TV shows that she watched. I miss her yelling at me. I miss the way she cooked. I miss seeing her by the stove. I miss her cute mom pants. I miss her soft hands and perfect nails. I miss her smile. I miss her crooked teeth. I miss her, I miss her, I miss her.  It's not fair.

I feel like I can wake up tomorrow, and have a voicemail waiting from her. I feel like putting the cement block over her grave was premature. What if Jesus cured her and she is stuck in the coffin?

Irrational thoughts. But they're there. They haunt me.
It's just... really difficult.

Bree.

"I watched my best friend, unable to help or offer true comfort, as she struggled with slowly losing her mother to something that has no cure.  I was cowardly because I was afraid of making everything worse, only to realize that all she really needed was to know that I was here, and that I would always be here.  And yet I sat on the sidelines watching, like the selfish person that I am, as she struggled and fell and ached with so much pain and hurt and anger that she didn't know what to do anymore, what to say or feel, and she didn't even want to move, or feel anymore.  Because everything just hurt her.  And still, I don't know what to say or do or act - Because I'm still terrified of hurting her, more than I already have, because she is so important to me that I don't ever want to see her scared, or unhappy, or in pain - And I don't have the words or ability to convey everything to her - And I've wasted time with my own anger, and hurts, and sadness, and I haven't allowed myself to be the best friend I know she deserves, the person I should be, holding her hand and telling her that everything is going to be okay - If she'd just hold on a little longer, things will be better. And that I'm here, and I love her, and I will never leave her."


Thank you.

Monsters - Hurricane Bells

The situation's all critical
You've got to look first before you go
If you wasn't too sure then now you know
The situation is all critical

Wait, okay, you've got to look before you go
Wait, okay, you've got to look before you go
Deep into the darkness where I hide

The monsters all buried down deep inside
You never know when they're satisfied
Buried down deep where the sun don't shine
The monsters are buried down deep inside

Wait, okay, you've got to look before you go
You're wasting away, okay, you've got to look before you go
Deep into the darkness where I hide
Deep into the darkness where I hide

Wait, okay, you've got to look before you go
Oh wait, okay, you've got to look before you go
You're wasting away, okay, you've got to look before you go
Deep into the darkness where I hide
Deep into the darkness where I hide
Deep into the darkness

To Mom, Love Mar

Letters. Tiny words expertly written in the most dainty cursive. Mainly blue pen, sometimes black. Words, just pen and paper. Sometimes a "happy birthday", Sometimes a random "thinking of you." One of the most simple things Is what I remember most. She wasn't the best at speaking But neither am I. The easiest way to talk Was with letters. E-mails. Cards. I miss her handwriting. I miss her signature. All things I have mementos of, But nothing replaces the surprise Of a card waiting in the mail, Just to tell me she misses and cares. I wish she could send one from heaven.