Diary of a Mother

Friday was the first time I had been at the house during nightfall since mom had passed (well second, the night after she died I went there and had a panic attack). I have been there plenty of times during the day. Night time was our time. I would go there and we would catch up. We would watch our shows. We would overanalyze life. We would overanalyze the lives of the people on our shows. It was OUR time.

I wasn’t thinking of that when Julian and I went there. But as we walked into the sunroom I began to cry. I looked at the couch where she would be and she wasn’t there. I’ve looked at that spot on the couch multiple times a week since she’s passed but it felt different at night.

Julian asked if I was crying and I shook my head yes. He asked “Mimi?” And I shook my head yes.

And then I sat in her spot and he sat in mine and we had this wonderful conversation. We talked about our feelings and missing her and life. And then we went and played with his toy kitchen for about an hour. It was exactly what my heart needed in that moment.