I've always struggled to communicate with my mom, but now that she's gone the struggle is real, as the kids say. I do take comfort knowing she is no longer toting around a bunch of sick, traitorous cells. She is no longer in pain, and that fact picks me up off the floor every day.
But I am in pain. My thoughts on the experience of having then losing then having then losing my mother are too numerous and severe for my brain to accommodate. I feel them scratching my throat, eating my stomach, pinching my hips, melting my eyelids. So in order to sort them out, I've decided to categorize them (because I inherited a quite the organization gene from mom) and write about them.
Disclaimer, there will be some negativity because, lest you've forgotten, I'm fucking sad. And when I'm not fucking sad, I'm fucking frustrated, or fucking exhausted. One of the most obvious reasons our society doesn't regularly discuss grief and loss is because we're actively trying to avoid those things. Unless it's wrapped up in a Muddy Waters song or something, no one is exactly thrilled to answer the door when sadness knocks. But we're missing a real opportunity here. Avoiding these conversations means avoiding a chance to better understand and peacefully accept the inevitable. It means avoiding a chance to better understand and peacefully accept each other. Hard as it is to stare grief in the face, I've found much inspiration, love, gratitude, compassion, and strength in her eyes. I will write about that as well, promise.
A few topics I want to write about off the top of my head (then sorted alphabetically, of course):
Anger, Apathy vs Ambition, Compassion, Empathy, Event Planning, Exercise, Expectations, Family, Friendship, God, Greed, Guilt, Loneliness, Marriage, Memories, Men, Money, Music, Peace, Politics, Possessions, Preachers, Privilege, Questions, Sisters, Smells, Songwriting, The Dead Parent Club, The Future, The Industry of Dying, The Nuthouse, Therapy, Traveling, Women, Work