I’m lost. I’m lost in two different ways. My therapist once told me that a piece of me would die when my mom died. And this is true. There is a hole in my heart. But there is also a hole in my brain.
I spent nearly 4 years worrying about her. Worrying about whether chemo was working and blood counts and surgery and whether she would and when she would die. And now she’s gone. And there’s this hole in my brain that was occupied with this constant worrying and it doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
The last few weeks of her life were truly heartbreaking. To watch the strongest person you know lose every last bit of their independence is devastating. She was a lawn mowing, room painting, remove a railing while her husband was at work force of nature. And to watch her frustration as she couldn’t take a sip of water was devastating. And the mental aspect became just as hard as she didn’t know the word for water or even at points that it was me sitting with her.
So yes, when I write those things or say those things I am relieved for her that she is no longer suffering. I’m just not quite sure what to do.
I read our old texts. And I read our family group texts. As I do I can hear voice. And it makes me smile and it makes me laugh because she was funny. And I’m sharing all of this because I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. And I know if she could she would be texting me and say maybe you should try writing a blog like she had so many times before.