The other night Matt and Kat told me it was sit-ups that I needed. Ben says it's definitely not yoga. These 12 hour days of work are something else. I'm making cartoon money but I can't tell if it's worth it. It is. But I just can't tell. Maybe if I was on the receiving end of my Lost netflix discs I wouldn't be so down - but something about today was just completely off. It's probably the approach of Christmas. Probably why I made the huge invite for my birthday party on Facebook today. Definitely should not have invited so many people from work. They're not going to come anyways and now they know that I'm a huge drunk. Like they didn't before, but you always read about people getting fired for Facebook crap. So goddamn stupid.
I always seem to turn Metalocalypse on just as it's about to end. Story of my life.
Basically, I'm feeling really sorry for myself. Every time I went upstairs today I expected to see my mom. Expected to hear her. I could feel what it felt like to be hugged by her, what it felt like just to be in the same room with her. I started to forget what it was like to take care of her every day as she was dying. I started to forget that she died in a hospital bed in the living room where I watch t.v. with my dad still. Maybe "forget" is the wrong word. I'll never be able to forget. I don't want to forget. But I definitely don't want to remember as much as I do. As often as I do. Today I started to get my wish. One could assume that this would pay off with a sense of relief or comfort. I'm blessed with the memory of her and not tormented so much by the thought of her suffering. But it's just a different kind of grief. At least for now. I do feel closer to her in a way, after today. I know full well how powerful and real memory can be. But it's opening a whole other door of realization, the terrifying aspect of eternity. More than anything I wish I could know how she's doing right now.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment