Today would have been my mother’s 74th birthday. This is the third of her birthdays that has arrived without her presence. The first was the worse, and last year wasn’t much better. And this year is 2020, so it’s just as awful as it could be.
My mother’s death is wrapped around me, not tightly, but it is all over me. It is a blanket of sadness. There are moments when I get choked up, and I still cry occasionally about her death, button the whole, I can speak about it open, and honestly. I speak most often with my daughter about it. This was her first experience of death, and she does miss her grandmother. Talking does help, and talking about memories I have of my mother to my daughter, does make thing easier.
But it is a sadness. A feeling that I could be happier, but that I just won’t ever be that happy again. I find joy and happiness with my family, and friends, and then at the end of the night, as I drift off, or hope to drift off to sleep, there is that little honest moment that I am reminded that I can’t talk to her.
I also know that her death has put me in a depression, one that is with me, and will be with me for some time to come. I know it because the things that I used to enjoy before her death, just don’t bring me that joy anymore. I know the signs of depression. I have dealt with it many times before, and I have always come out on the other side, and better for it. I know that this will happen again, because I want to be in a good place again, and I also have great people in my life that I can lean on.
Still, I do miss my mom.