Thursday, September 23, 2010
Change
It's time for big changes again. In just over a week, I'll be free of something that has been keeping me down, and about three weeks after that, I should be back in my other home on the other side of the world. It's times like this when I wish life had a fast-forward button. October promises to be a month of sighs of relief.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
When does it get easier?
It's been almost two years since my mom died and it hasn't got any easier for me. I just tear up or start blatantly crying at random moments when something reminds me of her or I spontaneously think of her. For example, on the anniversary of her birthday last August, they were showing her favourite movie, Dirty Dancing, on W. I thought how apt that was and it made me really sad.
I always think about how I wasn't here, and how no one told me she was sick. I spoke to her the weekend before she passed away and everything was normal. When I arrived home on November 7, 2008, it was so hard to listen to everyone here talk about how ill she was and that they kept pressuring her to go to Emergency, because her doctor's office wasn't willing to make an appointment for her. Under my grief, I was so angry. But I'm not the type of person who immediately assigns blame out of anger or frustration; however, in this case, I think my mom was in desperate need of a person of action, like me, and I was on the other side of the planet, completely unaware of what was happening.
During my childhood, it was mostly just my mom and me. No father, no siblings. We had my godmother and my mom's friends, and one of my uncles to a certain extent; that was our extended network. Things weren't idyllic by any means, but I loved my mom. I tried desperately to make her proud of me, and she was the only person whose advice I sought (I talk to people when I have a conflict, but I never seek advice; I'm very independent and determined). I wanted to get emotion and affection from her, but it was incredibly difficult. She was in her own world. She would save all her emotion for silly things, like movies. In real life, she was cold and detached and when she watched TV or movies, she would cry at the happy moments and the sad moments. It was quite something to see for those of us who knew her. As difficult as it was, I accepted her for who she was, as she learned to accept me for who I was.
Her bedroom has not been occupied by either my godmother or me; the furniture and decor are as they were on November 6, 2008, and sometimes, our cat Tigger sits outside the door and looks at it as though she's wondering why her mother isn't there to let her in anymore.
Moving back here was really difficult for me for many reasons, including the fact that I would be living in my mom's house without my mom for the first time. In some ways, being in another country made it easier to deal with her death; I had my partner and her family. This house is so empty. I can imagine what it's like for my godmother when I'm not here, and about a month from now, I won't be for another couple of months.
I miss her so much.
I always think about how I wasn't here, and how no one told me she was sick. I spoke to her the weekend before she passed away and everything was normal. When I arrived home on November 7, 2008, it was so hard to listen to everyone here talk about how ill she was and that they kept pressuring her to go to Emergency, because her doctor's office wasn't willing to make an appointment for her. Under my grief, I was so angry. But I'm not the type of person who immediately assigns blame out of anger or frustration; however, in this case, I think my mom was in desperate need of a person of action, like me, and I was on the other side of the planet, completely unaware of what was happening.
During my childhood, it was mostly just my mom and me. No father, no siblings. We had my godmother and my mom's friends, and one of my uncles to a certain extent; that was our extended network. Things weren't idyllic by any means, but I loved my mom. I tried desperately to make her proud of me, and she was the only person whose advice I sought (I talk to people when I have a conflict, but I never seek advice; I'm very independent and determined). I wanted to get emotion and affection from her, but it was incredibly difficult. She was in her own world. She would save all her emotion for silly things, like movies. In real life, she was cold and detached and when she watched TV or movies, she would cry at the happy moments and the sad moments. It was quite something to see for those of us who knew her. As difficult as it was, I accepted her for who she was, as she learned to accept me for who I was.
Her bedroom has not been occupied by either my godmother or me; the furniture and decor are as they were on November 6, 2008, and sometimes, our cat Tigger sits outside the door and looks at it as though she's wondering why her mother isn't there to let her in anymore.
Moving back here was really difficult for me for many reasons, including the fact that I would be living in my mom's house without my mom for the first time. In some ways, being in another country made it easier to deal with her death; I had my partner and her family. This house is so empty. I can imagine what it's like for my godmother when I'm not here, and about a month from now, I won't be for another couple of months.
I miss her so much.
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