My mother died on September 3, 2009, the day after the Girl celebrated her 20th birthday. It’s been about 6 weeks since she died, and you know, most of the time, I’m doing okay…sort of.
I go about my daily life and things go along the way they did before 3 September. Beloved and the Girl head to LSU every morning and the Boy goes to school, I have dinners to prepare and laundry to do and my books to write, and the sun shines.
But it doesn’t. Not really.
We’ve had some on-going issues. My van died before I got home from the week of funerals and stress and food that started on Labor Day. The van is over 10 years old and it’s time for it to just be donated somewhere. Due to our family’s situation, we want to donate it to Kidney Cars.
Well, it has turned out to be a major hassle. Between trying to figure out Kidney Cars’ rules and get all the forms filled out and notarized, it’s taken forever. Then today we found out that while I did have the title to fill out the forms online, the title Beloved took with him today was for a different car.
The Girl went to the ER with some minor digestive issues. She’s okay but I was freaked out last night waiting for Beloved to bring her home.
The Boy still has some behavioral issues and while I called his psychologist last week, she hasn’t called me back to talk about a pharmaceutical option. I’ll have to call a pediatrician tomorrow.
I have some peridonital issues I can’t even think about dealing with yet,
Probably if I were in a different frame of mind, these things wouldn’t seem so huge.
A friend of mind brought me flowers and food a week or so ago. Her mother works with the bereavement ministry at our church, so she brought me a couple of pamphlets from there. I guess I thought that since I was home and dealing with my every day life, I was okay.
I need to be gentle with myself and realize that it’s going to be some time, a long time, before I’m not still grieving. It’s only been about 6 weeks.
Tomorrow I’m flying up to Akron, Ohio, with my father-in-law. We’re renting a truck to drive some of Mom’s furniture and other stuff like that. Maybe that’s why my heart is so broken today. I really don’t want to deal with this.
Yes, in a mercenary, selfish, way I want her sewing stuff and I want the furniture and paintings, but more than that, I wish she were still here to use them and I wouldn’t have to do this.
I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to go up there, although my brother and his wife live there and I love them and want to see them again, but you know what? I saw them last month and it was hard.
Okay, enough of this. I need to try to focus on something else.
Thanks for listening!