Today is a hard day for me, but I think I'm doing well this year. It's the anniversary of my mum's death. It's been *counts on fingers* holy shit... it's been five years since she went away. All the things she didn't want to miss out on, all the things I desperately wanted her here for... It's sad sometimes. I wish I could tell her I finally graduated highschool, even though I was 5 years later than my peers. I've traveled, beat my anxiety disorder and depression (well, about as much as anyone can!), lived abroad. Gotten out of the worst situation I could have put myself in. Found real love. Got married! Got married, without her there to see
but we found ways to include her; honour her memory. It tears me apart that she never got to meet Dustin and that he never knew her. Though she knew of him and whilst she didn't understand technology or how one could fall in love with someone they hadn't met, I sense she supported us back then just as she's be happy for us now. Soon, I'll be a mum myself. I remember so much of HOW she raised us, the good and the bad. I hope it's enough that I can avoid remaking her mistakes, while aspiring to those qualities I saw in her that made me proud. A lot happens in five years. I've forgiven her for the messed up things she did. For the years of fear, depression, pain, sickness.... For the things that could be avoided, the horrible things she would say and do. I have come to terms with it. I try not to be bitter, even though that's what my name means.
It's taken five years to repair some of the mistakes she left us with - that dickhead being one of them. But he is gone now. The house is restored. Her house, the house I grew up in - the place she said no matter how old we got there would always be a room for us so that we could return... that den of confused memories is on the market for sale, when I'd thought it would stay in our family another generation. No more ties to the small town my ancestors lived in for generations. Soon, it will all be gone. Some days I don't know how I feel about that. It's not healthy to cling to the past. But how are we to remember with no reminders? How am I to share our history with my daughter?... Oh. We have the photos. Of course
I hope it will be enough.*shakes head* So I was in a panic because one of the things most important to Ma were her rings. She wore a lot of rings. On all her fingers and her thumbs, and sometimes more than one per finger. From a young age she told us which each of us would inherit. (Is that morbid? Probably is. Sometimes looking back I think she somehow knew she'd never make it to old age.) Mum's metal was gold, which I'm allergic to, but there's one ring of hers she's even let me borrow sometimes as a kid - that I try to always wear now. A tiny gold band the size of a sleeper (those mini hoop earings) inset with a ruby... I'd taken it off because the rash had become unbearable, and stupidly left it on my desk. Cleaning up today, I couldn't find it... I was terrified that at some point I'd throw it out with random papers or maybe it got knocked to the floor and vaccumed up. Turns out it was under the base of my monitor! How relieved am I right now? To think I'd lost my most tangible tie to her on a day like today, nearly undid me.
Sometimes, I'm surprised at how much less my grief is this year. I've hardly cried at all. I miss her. I miss her guidance. But some part of my brain has finally clued in to the fact she's never coming back. When I dream of her now, I can wake up knowing it's a dream, rather than blearily trying to find her number in my phone, only to realise it's been a long time since she had a number I could call. The pain isn't as fresh. It helps. But there are some days I just want my mum. Some moments where missing her is unbearable.
The night she died... one of the nurses was clumsy, and hurt her pretty badly... She curled up on her bed and cried "I want my mummy" even though her mum had passed about ten years before. I have never known heartbreak like what I felt at that moment. You never stop needing your mum at some level. Hopefully, she'll have been gone 60 or more years when the black rabbit comes for me, but I don't doubt that in that moment, she'll be the person I need the most.
Ok, so that was a bit morbid I'm sure. Please disregard my morbidness today. And if you still have a mum, even if she's difficult - actually, especially if she's difficult and you're had your share of issues - call her. Tell her that you love her, that you're grateful she's in your life and maybe, maybe that you forgive her too. We can only do the best job we know how to do, appreciate that whoever she was, she TRIED.
Rest peacefully Nerida, and good luck on your soul's next set of adventures. You will be loved, missed and remembered, always.
She'll always be a part of who you are and once you'll have your baby you'll know exactly how much she loved you.