I sometimes think that the good thing about losing my mom when I was 24 was that I'd never have to lose her again. That's fucked up, isn't it? It's also wrong, because I seem to be losing her all the time. Sometimes every day. I lose her when something happens in my life, or when I'm proud of myself, or when I'm sitting here, watching the hands on the clock go around and I can't get up from my chair, even to get a Kleenex, because I'm crying and coughing and curled up in a ball.
People who die on TV (read: Grey's Anatomy) are bullshit, because they're always brave. Well, she was scared, and we were scared to talk about it. And we still don't. What the fuck are we waiting for?
Sometimes it seems like there's not a thing I did when I was taking care of her that I'm not sorry for. I should have done it better. I'm not sure how far back it extends, but for sure that period. Maybe my whole life.