Every year, around this time, I start to get very emotional. It happens in different ways -- maybe I'll lose my shit at work, or get in a very odd fight with a friend or I'll just find myself staring at a wall. It'll happen a couple times before I realize what's going on. And today I remembered: I lost my mom 8 years ago, January 24.
The rest of the year, I seem to be able to manage it. And I don't think about it all the time, and when I do think about it, I don't cry as much as I used to. Hardly ever, really. But my emotions have a way of knowing this anniversary is coming up before I do.
This never goes away, I think. I think when you have such a big loss, every event in your life suddenly falls into two camps: When you still had this person in your life, and since she's been gone. Today I saw on Grey's Anatomy a character talking about losing his dad. He said, "I don't know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn't." And another character said, "Yeah, that pretty much doesn't change." And it's true. It doesn't change. There's a profound feeling of loneliness that I've never been able to shake since she died. I mean, I forget it sometimes, but then I look down and there it is, gripping me.
I think my mom would really be proud of me right now, and happy for me. And I know a lot of people would tell me that she is. And you know, I believe in that in theory, but I just can't feel it. Jeffrey and I are talking about getting married, but I decided a long time ago that I don't want a big wedding because she's not going to be there.
I have to try to stop crying.