two years later

It’s October 3, 2016. Two years ago, I got a call from my aunt while in the middle of gaming with some friends. I heard screaming and crying in the background and my aunt told me she was sorry she had to tell me, but my mom had been found dead and they were waiting on the ambulance/coroner. I remember reality dropping away from me as I sobbed in front of my friends, while they stared at me bewildered, not knowing what was happening.

I remember having to call my two younger sisters and my dad to break the news to them. I wish I could forget those calls.

I remember numbly thanking family members and friends at her funeral services. I remember signing papers and getting her few personal effects. I remember getting her death certificate in the mail and crumpling to the floor when I read “undetermined” as cause of death. It felt unfair, it still feels unfair.

I remember the last thing we said to each other was that we loved each other.

It’s so hard to believe that it’s been two years since the worst day of my life. Losing a parent is awful – I wouldn’t wish it on even my worst enemy – but everyone has to go through it at one point or another. I feel like the day she died, I died as well. I had the opportunity to be reborn into this new person I am now. I wish her death was as figurative as mine was.

Since her death, I’ve learned a whole hell of a lot about who I am and who I am not. I’ve become a more serious person and now tend to be a bit introverted. It can be hard for me to form attachments to people because, as I’ve learned, people go away for one reason or another. I try to tell people more often how meaningful they are to me. I pay more attention to the little things – her favorite songs on the radio, this above photo that fell out of a book, the dreams I have.

She definitely had her faults and wasn’t a perfect person. Nobody is perfect. She was always more than enough even if she didn’t feel like she was. It hurts that she’s missing out on what are becoming the best days of our lives. My sister Rebekah and her wonderful boyfriend Chris are due in December with a little girl, same initials as my mother. My other sister Elizabeth has gone through some great personal trials and come out on top, with her fantastic partner by her side.

Me? Sometimes I feel like I haven’t quite hit my potential. But I’m working toward it, Mom. I’m studying for the LSAT which I plan to take in December. I’m in therapy (and my therapist is AMAZING) and in treatment for my anxiety disorder. I’m working hard at a great job that makes sure I’m taken care of. I have an amazing life partner in Brad and all of my needs are met.

That pain of losing her is always there, though. It’s like a white-hot poker just underneath your skin, and if you move a certain way or think a certain thought or breathe a certain breath it’s there, twisting, writhing, reminding you the pain is still very real, and very accessible. They lie when they say it gets easier over time. You just get better at masking it, at dealing with it.

I miss her every day. But today, I miss her most.

 

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