Grief

This is my first live blog post, meaning that I’m not writing it in Word and then dedicating hours to edit it to death. It’s a full on stream of consciousness that I am writing in my sweatpants, sitting on a gray couch in a living room that’s only half put together, listening to morning jazz and drinking a dark cup of coffee.

In a way, it’s how I wanted this blog to be when I first started. I wanted it to be real, raw and unfiltered. But, between getting caught up in the business best practices and knowing that people I know are reading this, I let that get in the way sometimes.

To be honest, I haven’t done much writing lately. I simply haven’t had the desire. I haven’t had the desire to do much of anything. Depression is a real bummer, folks. I lack the inspiration and creative drive that every artistic small business owner needs to get them through the work weeks and thrive.

It’s been almost 2 months to the day that my mom passed away. Even still, when I catch random glimpses of memories of her, I cry. Now that the initial shock has worn off, I finally remember things that I never even thought made an impression on me. It’s not the big gestures and outstanding memories, it’s the little things like us drinking herbal tea at night - she always mixed Jammin’ Lemon Ginger with Sleepytime tea in the kitchen before heading up to bed.

There are so many times since she’s passed that I’ve had to look up if what I’ve been feeling is normal. While people openly talk about grief, there are so many things that are not talked about. Like how I feel like an orphan at the age of 32. Or how the initial shock of a loved one passing puts you into a state of such disbelief, you still wait for them to walk through the door as if they’ve simply gone out for errands. The emotional rollercoaster of being a total emotional wreck at the drop of a hat when moments before you felt fine, or numb, or drowning in depression, or even happy, is so taxing. One day I can’t wait to be held and comforted by loved ones and the next day I don’t want to be near anyone. It’s all so confusing.

I feel like I should’ve been excited to find an apartment, or land a new work contract, or hear my partner tell me he loves me…That would be a “normal” reaction. But I don’t even know what normal means in this new life. A life without my mom. She’ll never watch me walk down the aisle, or give me advice on raising my first child. I’ll never get to watch her dance again, or see the joy on her face when she’s at the beach.

I’ll never get to feel her hug me tight when I come home or listen to her pleas to get me to stay.

In her last letter to my siblings and I, alongside her decision to stop treatment, she expressed that she would never be able to eat a steak again or visit Hawaii. Hearing some of these regrets makes me want to embrace and live life to the fullest. The thoughts send my mind into a fantasy of achieving some of my biggest dreams. But instead, I just sit there hoping that soon I’ll feel better.