The past few weeks have been a blur. I feel like I'm in a fog most of the time. When I'm at home, I'm wondering how things are going at my mom's. When I'm here I'm wondering how the kids are doing at home.
I'm learning a lot about myself. How I grieve. And I have to say it's not pretty. Nor is it good for my marriage. I know it's been hard on Jud, I just have nothing left to give. I feel empty. He wants to help, desperately. But he can't. He wants to listen, but I can't talk. He wants to hold me, but I can't stop moving. Because when I stop, it hurts. Terribly. When I stop, I start to think about what it's going to feel like when I wake up one morning, very soon, and she won't be here. I won't be able to see her, call her. She'll be gone. Forever. I will have lost my mother.
So I keep moving.
This week I've spent every minute I could with her, with my brothers and sisters and my dad. I've learned just how much we need each other. I've learned that I'm not the only one who has this insane way of coping with grief. My sisters and I have all been busy pacing around the house, washing windows, mowing the lawn anything to keep from stopping for too long. One of my brothers and I had a great late night talk/cry. It felt good. I think I'm getting there.
I can see how at peace my mom is. It's very comforting. She made sure to tell us all how proud she is of us and how much she loves us and that she'll be watching over all of us. When I asked her if she was afraid, she just smiled and said, "oh, not really."
Right now I'm just holding on tight but at the same time preparing to let go... I only wish I had an ounce of her strength and courage.