I think that I’m feeling all of the wrong things. Improper things. Things that shouldn’t be felt a mere two and a half weeks after a loved one dies.
Aside from my Grandma passing away a few years ago, I have never experienced a death in the family. I never expected it to feel this way. I can’t help but wonder if my feelings are normal, or if I’m just a bad person.
Because, right now, I’m feeling like an awful person.
I’m feeling angry and upset that I haven’t seen my Mom since she died. Yes, I am fully aware of how completely irrational that sounds. How could I see her? She died. In retrospect, however, I now realize that I have been unconsciously wishing and hoping for years for a special visit from my Mom after she died. I always knew that she would die “young” and I just assumed that she would stop and make a quick visit to me before she got busy in the spirit world. I didn’t fully realize how much I counted on this special visit happening until she died and such a visit never occurred.
It sounds so stupid, I know.
I have heard stories in the past of relatives visiting loved ones after they had died to say goodbye. I honestly just assumed that my Mom would come to me. I can’t help but think that maybe she didn’t love me as much as I thought she did. If she did love me that much, than why can’t I see her? Why can’t I even feel her near me? Perhaps I’m not spiritual enough to be allowed to be in her presence. I feel as if I’m thinking about her constantly, but I can’t help but wonder if she is enjoying herself so much that she doesn’t even care about me anymore. I have been wanting to feel her presence so badly that I’m starting to imagine things. She has become some sort of an imaginary friend. It’s ridiculous.
A few days ago I was really frustrated with Bryce. He was acting up and was simply ignoring me (I suppose two-week “vacations” do that to kids). He kept coloring on our walls with crayon and I yelled at him. And then I felt embarrassed because I realized (or imagined) that my Mom probably saw the whole messy scenario and was disappointed in my behavior. Now that she is on the other side, I feel like she will see what kind of person I really am and realize that I’m not as good as she thought I was.
It’s funny, but I have an easy time imagining that my Mom is near me when I’m not on my best behavior. I hope that I will one day feel her near when I do something that she would be proud of.
I’m terrified by the simple fact that I still have so many more years to live on this Earth (hopefully) and she won’t be here for any more of them. I’m scared that her memory will somehow fade away. That she eventually won’t feel as vivid to me as she does now.
I have been wearing some of her clothes. They still smell like her and it’s comforting. But I am eventually going to have to wash them. Then what? How will I keep her alive?
I made banana bread yesterday, my Mom’s recipe. I thought about her the entire time. I knew that when she was alive, she had measured the same amount of flour and smelled the same sweet scent in the air. It made me feel a bit better.
I promised my Mom on the day that she died that I would write a book about her. She was worried that her grand-kids wouldn’t know who she was. To be honest, that thought scares and saddens me as well. For this “book” that I’m writing (mainly for close friends and relatives), I’m including excerpts from her journal (the good stuff), church talks that she had written (that I was able to find), her favorite recipes, a collection of memories from friends and family members, her favorite scripture passages, song lyrics, her favorite quotes, a family tree (complete with a few pictures), letters that she wrote to family members, and a few other things.
I’m hoping that this “book” that I put together will help keep her alive. From what I have been able to read from her journal so far, it has been really nice. It feels like she’s talking to me. This experience has strengthened my resolve more than anything to keep a journal. I currently write in my journal nearly every day and I am so grateful for that habit. I know that my journal will be a treasure to my posterity, as my Mom’s journal is to me.
The sad thing, however, is that she stopped writing in her journal in 1990. I was eight years old. This was also round the time that she first started getting sick. I can’t help but wonder if there is a correlation.
Following 1990, she started scrap-booking. Her house is full of beautiful scrapbooks. That was her preferred form of journaling, I suppose. I wish, however, that she would have written at least a few more lines in her journal.
I love my Mom so much. I miss her. It’s true what they say. You don’t realize how much you love someone until they are gone and you aren’t able to talk to them any longer. I suppose that I will eventually feel her spirit. Maybe, perhaps, I already feel of her spirit but I’m simply not recognizing it.
It feels good to vent!
I apologize if I sound like a horrible person. But feelings are feelings. And these are mine.