In the past when I wrote about my mother, it touched on some of the pain I felt. Never got too deep. Lately I've been thinking a lot of about her. It's been 10 years since I lost her. I think these last few months I've thought about her constantly. With Mother's Day right around the corner, just wanted to let some thoughts out. This isn't a pretty piece, but here goes.
I remember losing my mother like it was yesterday. I remember the exact time she took her last breath. I remember that whole weekend I spent laying in bed with her. I remember wanting to believe that she would pull through. Now that I look back, I knew she wouldn't. Not that I didn't have faith, I just felt that miracle wasn't going to happen.
Her funeral is still a blur to me. I do remember walking up to the casket and wanting to jump in. I didn't want to let her go. I felt like I had died too so may as well make it a double. I spent the next few months pretending I was okay. I took a new job to distract myself. Only to end up crying in the bathroom during my lunch breaks. This most painful thing I had do was cancel her phone line. I bursted into tears when the customer service asked was there any reason why I was canceling the line. Felt like I was giving her up all over again.
Next the anger set in and took a tight grip on me. "Why didn't you fight harder?!" "Why did you listen to those idiots at the church"" I was angry at my dead mother. How could she be so cruel to leave me, to leave us? I was mad at every doctor, nurse, assistant, valet worker, custodian, anyone who worked at that hospital I loathed. Why didn't ya'll try harder? Did you give her every treatment you could? You call yourself a doctor and couldn't save MY mother?! You worthless pieces of shit! Lastly, I was mad at God. With all the drinking, smoking, general hell raising people on this earth, you chose to take my loving, beautiful mother? You serious right now?
Once the anger subsided, the depression blew into my life. I got depressed when I finally realized "damn, she's gone and not coming back". I never wanted to kill myself. However, there were days that I was like if I don't wake up, that's cool. I engaged in some hella self destructive behavior. I drank more than I did in college. I smoked like a chimney. Anything to dull my senses. Anything to not deal with the emptiness I felt inside. I withdrew from the world. I left the the distraction job. I sat in my apartment and didn't leave. I didn't sleep. I didn't do anything.
On one of the rare nights I actually slept, I had a dream. The most vivid dream I've ever had. I saw my mother so clearly, almost to the point I felt like I could touch her. When I woke up, I was in tears. I reckon it was for two reasons: 1. I didn't want the dream to end and 2. I felt like it was her way of telling me how I was living wasn't cool.
That night was a turning point for me. First thing I did was found a therapist. Not the one at the bottom of a bottle, but the one with the letters behind her name. Life without my mother has been tough. However, I have been able to cope and deal with life. It's obvious at times that my mom was the glue of our family. My pops has really stepped his game up though. I'm amazed by his strength. I can only imagine losing someone you were with for over 3 decades. He held it together for us and I appreciate that.
While I would had rather not lost my mom, losing her has given me a new purpose in life. I have been able to comfort so many people who lost their mothers. To be able to look into crying eyes and say "I've been there. It won't be easy but you're going to be okay". Helping people during tough times was her gig, now it's mine.