As you can imagine, today is bittersweet. Because I am a Mother myself, but today is slightly poisoned with the reminder that my Mom is dead. It’s only been 5 months. Has it really almost been half a year? I should be over it by now. No I shouldn’t – what are you talking about?! They say it takes a year of crying at each holiday before it truly gets any better. I believe part of that and none of that at the same time.

The end of the day is here and I feel indifferent. At first I was expectant of Mothers Day cards and sweet love from my family, and then I was angry when I found myself thinking of my own Mother, and then I was unconsolable with tears and sobs quietly in the shower because that was the only place I could be alone. It’s the first time I can’t call her on 1 of 2 of “her days.” It’s weird of course but more so it is sobering. Like a slap in the face of all the things you wished you could have said, you could have done, you could have showed.

I don’t want to feel this way. I feel bad for my family for having to see me like this. I scroll through old photos of her, torturing myself. Scrolling for more only to feel the pain so deeply that I hide. Hide from myself. Hide from my family. Hide from anything and anyone really.

She was right all along. Every single thing she said makes so much more sense with her being gone. She told me the same thing when her Mother died and it’s ironic I have the same feeling.

If your Mom is dead, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I keep saying dead but that’s what I say when I’m angry at the fact that they are dead. Because it pisses me off. There is no empathy in the words that I’m using because I’m back to feeling indifferent. I want to paint my nails black, get the tattoo that I’ve been talking about, and drink red wine. Not because of the feeling that comes from my Mother being dead, but because my Mothers death forced me to become who I really am. I don’t have to be anything except myself, and that can be just as scary as being something you are not.

Love,

B