I'm tired of writing about grief.
Perhaps I could fake my way through a perfume
Like I've ever written a respectable perfume review.
Still, I could give it my best shot.
But I'm just too tired.
Mom's death anniversary is looming heavy and my emotions are all over the place. I'm fatigued, distracted, irritated and everything makes me cry.
Like re-runs of Scrubs.
Memories of this time last year are excruciating as Mom was dying before our eyes. Watching her process, I learned one thing: it's hard to die.
The will to live takes over after everything else is gone.
Not that Mom wanted to die. She fought long after losing the ability to walk, to think and even to breathe. Sadly, I was ready to let her go before she was ready to give up the fight.
She never gave up.
After each visit, I would fantasize that Mom could die peacefully in her sleep after she had said an eloquent goodbye. Death wrapped up with a bow at exactly the right moment and in exactly the right way.
If there is such a thing, I wished it for her.
And for us.
Instead, the day she died was spent trying to manage the situation with my father and my brother. Later, when it was clear we were at the end, my sisters came, too. Each detail of that day is etched in my mind forever.
Some I hope will fade, some I hope never to lose.
Mom died on Saturday, February 20th at 8:20 pm. I know this because I checked my watch after she drew her last breath. This detail seemed really important at the time.
Here's the thing about grief: it traps you in a whirlpool of churning emotions. I am exhausted from thinking about, feeling sad about and even blogging about my mother. And yet, here I am, immersed in this reality, unable to step out of the pool just yet.
And grief has changed me. Now, I worry more about losing those I love; my father, B-man, my son or one of my siblings. This energy is unfamiliar territory and new to my radar screen.
Still, I hang onto the hope that the one year mark will bring a shift or at least a softening of the loss. Perhaps it will even spark a new level of healing.
But part of grieving is losing one's innocence and confidence - at least temporarily - that life will turn out and everything will be okay in the end.
Oh, how I want that back.
Image from fotosearch.com