Monday, August 18, 2014

She Should Be Here

I am scooping salsa out of the jar with a fork when the tears start rolling down my cheeks. I taste the saltiness on my lips. I am crying about Christmas. Sobbing, really. It will be our first one without Mom. Though it is only August my worry eats away at me..from the inside out. I have not been "home" in the seven months since Mom died. It just is not possible to travel thirteen hundred and thirty-three miles now. My vacation and sick time were all used up during her last Christmas here on this earth. FMLA allowed me to be there during her last days, hours and minutes. 

I do not know if I can walk through their door again--knowing she won't be there offering me a cold coke before my suitcase touches the ground. In the days following her death it was comforting to be there. To see the chair where she took her last breath and was finally free from pain. To wrap myself in the soft blankets that had warmed me during the many nights when I sat beside her watching endless Law & Order episodes as we waited to offer her the next round of meds. The roll of half eaten Rolos on the tv tray that held necessities. I do not remember her ever eating Rolos before. She use to dole out M & Ms to the grandkids. She ate many a Snickers bar but one time during that last month she asked for Rolos. She rarely asked for anything during her lifetime and as she was dying we were desperate to fullfill any request. 

Dad is here now-spending ten days with us. He is building desks, shooting hoops with the boys and helping us settle in to our new home. It is a joyous time but devastastingly heartbreaking too. I keep thinking she should be here. Wishing like hell these last eight months were a a nightmare I could wake up from. She should be here to see her long-legged only granddaughter head off to middle school, to talk NBA basketball and World Cup Soccer with her oldest grandson, to put together legos with her brown-eyed, brown haired grandson.

Is missing her always going to hurt this much?

10 comments:

Mamarific said...

In my experience, the hurt never goes away, although it does become less intense. It's been 7 years since my Dad died, and it's still very hard to go home and have him not be there. But the pain is not paralyzing like it used to be. Hang in there!!! Hugs :)

@dkotucker said...

The first year after my dad died was soooo hard. All the firsts just pulled at my heart. It's been 9 years and although I think of him often, like Mamarific said...the pain is not paralyzing like it used to be.

Take care Robbie. (((HUGS)))

Tamara Camera said...

It's hard for me to know because most of my life has been without my father.
My best friend lost her mother (only in her 50's) to cancer and five years later, she finds joy and laughter every day, but of course the pain and grief are always there. They just transform, she says.

Natalie DeYoung said...

Oh, this is heartbreaking. :( Sending you hugs.

Lori said...

I'm so sorry. I lost my dad almost 15 years ago and although the grief lessens over time, I still can't look at a picture of him for longer than a few seconds without tearing up. I guess the best way to express grief is by holding the ones we love that are still with us, very very close.

Lana said...

I'm very sorry for your loss. My mother in law passed away in February so this will be our first Christmas without her as well. Even though she had been sick for awhile, it's still hard. Sending good thoughts your way.

Heather Wilson said...

My husband lost both of his parents to cancer. I never got a chance to know them. He says the pain will never fully go away, but it will lessen. He misses them all the time and tries not to dwell on that, but rather holding on to the good memories. May yours bring you comfort, too. - Heather, Life of a Traveling Navy Wife

AiringMyDirtyLaundry said...

I'm so sorry :( I can't even imagine.

Robbie K said...

Thank you all for your words of wisdom and kindness. Makes me feel less alone.

Rabia Lieber said...

I'm sorry! I lost my mother-in-law four and half years ago. The pain is not raw, but in some ways it gets worse as the years go on. I think of all the things she will miss and I wish the kids had been able to know her.