The Truth in the Illusion

When we lose someone, someone we truly love, we may find ourselves thinking that they couldn't have possibly existed. That's what my mind did about a month after my mother died. The loss was too great. She must have been a fantasy I thought up. I would remind myself that obviously wasn't true since I was born; I had to have a mother. In the end, I recognized what I was doing as a coping mechanism, my mind couldn't handle the lost therefore, it tried to remove it. It's a very strange feeling. One that I dismissed quickly because losing my memories of my Mom would be losing her again. She deserves to be remembered. Perhaps it is a testament to how wonderful she was that my mind just couldn't bear to remember. I am not alone in this. I've read of other people having the same sort of fog. My advise to those who suffer the same, is to fight it. Hang onto the memory of them. Do not let go of them. Forgetting may save pain at first, but in the long run you will better off for remembering.

Last night I had a dream that my mother was alive. She came where ever I was and she looked like she did before she got sick. I said to her "Mom you're dead." She said " What are you talking about?" I decided to go with it, to enjoy my dream time with her. To follow the illusion, even though I knew it was a dream.

The Christmas after my Dad died I begged my Mom to not do Christmas. She wouldn't listen. It proceeded as normal. Looking back I am glad she did that. Tried to keep it normal for me, so not to ruin my future holidays any more than they were. I am trying to do Christmas but the magic is gone. "As long as you have a Mother and Father, there will always be a Santa Claus." my Mother would tell me as a child when I'd ask about Santa's existence. It's the same answer her mother gave her when she would ask. That answer convinced me that there obviously must be a Santa because you always have parents. Well I am 28 now and Santa, along with my parents, is gone. Still the tree is decorated. My ornaments hung without her this year. The memories attached to each handmade or ancient keepsake are solely mine now. It's a loneliness that permeates throughout the body. Still, the holiday season isn't as bad as I was expecting. There are low points, but mostly it is a steady pulse, nothing particularly joyous, but not wretched. Mostly I am content.

I still enjoy giving presents. Trying to find the right gifts for people. In that though I always see things I would get for my mom and have to turn away, or redirect myself. I do not believe in buying gifts for the dead. Materialism is one thing that they are gladly stripped of and the living left with.  I wrap myself in ugly Christmas sweaters, all but one of which belonged to my mom. She did not think they were ugly and did not wear them ironically. She loved the cutest sayings and the like. Wearing them warms more than just my skin and makes me giggle at the memories. 

I do feel the love of friends and family. They have not forgotten me. They know it's hard and that I do not want to be pestered with questions constantly, but they treat me like always. Like a whole person. I find myself returning to my Uncle's for holidays, something which we used to do when I was a child. The familiarity of this is comforting. It's normal for me to be there not somewhere I would have to go so as not to be alone but a place of belonging. It feels right. And I am lucky for that. And thankful. Everyone who has lost someone, and their traditions along with them, should be as lucky to feel as though they belong. So to the people who include us, try to understand us, listen, provide distraction, laugh with us, cry with us, and help us light the tree when there are so many reasons why it would be easier not to, thank you.

Thank you for telling me I am handling it well. It's a credit to my Mother. And thanks to her, and you, I know I can do this.

Flashbacks, Flashforward

It's not unusual after a traumatic event to have flashbacks to it. I still have flashback to the last week that my Mom was fighting to stay alive. It was brutal. They used to completely paralyze me, an unwavering parade of scenes and imagines which I would rather forget. I still get those but when they happen I redirect my thoughts to happier times with my Mom, the memories I do not want to forget. Even the sound of her laugh. It's helped. Remembering that her life was far more than the last few months.

The last time I posted here I was just starting to come out of a very dark place. The crawl out of that pit was a slow one, it didn't happen all at once. Sort of like one day I felt like me again. Somewhere along the line I started living again, not just surviving.

Maybe it happened as we have fixed up my childhood home, my home for most of my life. Painting the walls, fixing the floors, raising the ceilings, updating the appliances and  the electric along with a million other tiny things we have found along the way. Clearing out and fixing up the house seemed to do the same for me, for my mind. I was never much of a do-it-yourselfer. I always wanted to be and my pintrist will show that I found tons of things to do. But when you suddenly have an entire house to fix up you are forced to be put on your crafty gloves and just go at it. I'm not particularly good at most of these things. People have asked me about how I feel about the house being that's where my Mom died. Don't I feel weird having chosen her room for my own? The answer is simple and always has been. That house has been my home my entire life. I love every inch of that house/yard and I have a lifetime of wonderful memories filled with love. Not just the last two weeks of her life there. As for it being where my Mom died, it's also the same place where all of my pets died and while their loss wasn't the same, each of them was like family to me. I was there when almost all of them died so no it's not weird. Maybe if my Mom had been violently murdered and I had to clean blood off the walls it would be different. But I love my home and the memories that are there. It's a part of me. As far as choosing my Mom's old room for my own, it would have been weird for me to take my old room. I'm not entirely sure why, perhaps because that would seem a little too much like making the other room some sort of shrine. I grew up therefore, I left my childhood bedroom. My mom's room was also the place I always went when I was sick or upset. Being there now is still comforting, especially since my new bed is super comfortable. Mostly I look forward to creating new memories there and filling the house with love of a different sort.

Waiting for Normal

My life has been completely turned upside down. My Mom is gone, my lease on my apt is over and the house that I now solely own isn't done with the renovations. I have this overwhelming desire for my life to go back to normal. But whenever I realize this sense I find a deeper sadness because the normal my life used to have is gone forever. The cancer that stole my Mother away took that away as well.

I am not the me I was. I am quieter for starters. The anxiety that I have I can at least expect to pass when I am not invading other people's space with my things and my pets. But I know I, myself, will never be the same. Quiet. That was never a word to describe me. I don't particularly know what to say or who to say it to. I know I don't like that I am quiet. I hope that it passes. That I feel and act more like the me I remember.

When my Nana died, I remember that my Mom said she wanted to die as well. But what kept her here was her new baby, me. I never realized how alike my Mom and I are. I never felt suicidal but for a while there if I had seen a bus barreling at me, I don't believe I would have moved. That was scary. That was a low point. I am still here. I do believe that it'll get better. The waiting part just sucks. There is no better word to describe it but sucks. I have been actively trying to make it better. Planning things so I can look forward to fun things. To seeing those I love that I have left. I feel normal around them, the ones who battled this with me. They've seen it all, they remind me of the life I had and will have again. They are my hope, they still see me, even if I can't. They bring out the old Sabrina from her deep slumber. 

Whatever my new normal is I eagerly await its arrival because this will not do as my normal. Normal will be better.

Breaking the Silence Since Losing Her

My mother died an hour into her birthday. She was 61. The week prior I had moved home to help take care of her. At that point I knew she had only about a week left.

The memories of that week have been something I have actively tried to suppress, if I don't I cannot really function. The things that happened that week, the sharp decline, my mom losing the ability to communicate, the death rattle, and knowing that she was mentally aware of it all is a weight that is unbearable and one that cannot be lifted by my friends and family no matter how hard they may try. And I know that any of them reading this are not happy with my admitting what they may have suspected. Although, I know rationally it is bad to ignore memories and to push them down into the subconscious this is what allows me to function and rebuild my life. Losing her was terrible, living through those final days was the worst experience I could ever have imagined. Actually, it surpasses even my worst nightmare and believe me I have had quiet a few since.

I was with her when she died. When the death rattle stopped and she became quiet. When she stopped breathing I called out to her "Mom! Mom!" and she started breathing again. A minute or so later it happened again, she stopped breathing. Only this time my calling out to her did nothing. She was gone. She tried to stay with me, her mind was there. Her body just couldn't do it anymore. And that last week was so horrible on her I can't blame her body for giving out. She fought the good fight, it just got to be too much. Not all stories have a happy ending.



Everyone has their own opinion on how I should  be handling things or how I should be acting. I get the "you have to deal with these feelings Sabrina." as though it were that easy. I've had anger at my emotions when they do surface because they are inconvenient or people do not understand how to handle them or me. Some are upset because they feel that I do not show enough emotion. That my loss does not weigh my soul down to the point where I cannot get out of bed. They would prefer for me showcase my suffering for their enjoyment. People seem to forget I am still me. A me that has suffered a trauma at the loss of my mother but I am me none the less. Some friends and family have disappeared completely from my life as well. They either do not know what to say to me or cannot face me for whatever reason. At any rate, I refuse to change my life, my coping mechanisms to better suit others who have no idea what it is like to walk in my shoes. As I write this, I am certain I am not the only person who has felt this way. The pressure from others on how to act when suffering a great loss.

It hasn't been all bad. Most days I have so much to do that moving forward is the only choice I have. I have been blessed to have such wonderful friends, family and coworkers in my life who have been there for me throughout all of this. I have had much support, for as many people giving me a hard time or disappearing out of my life there have been 3 more to take their place and assure me that I am handling everything better than they thought anyone could. That I am strong and they admire me for living life. Or simply ones that are there for me, not treating me differently. I love them all for it.


I miss her.

I miss a thousand things about her and our relationship. Even something as simple as knowing I'd have at least one person to read my blog posts, her. My mother was my biggest supporter and fan. She loved me unconditionally and I her. The only thing that I wouldn't take back from that week, the memory that I would keep are the ones that convince me that she knew how loved she was. I take so much comfort in that.


Hug your mom's tighter. Tell them that you love them and treasure the time you have with them. And if you are going through something similar, or are simply surviving understand that you are not alone and you are doing fine. You will get through this. We both will.