It’s been 4 1/2 weeks since mom died. It feels like four and a half days, or hours. I can hardly believe it, actually, except that she isn’t here. And that is so profoundly real. This daily realization makes mornings especially painful.
Mom talked alot about joy during her final days. I know she would want that for me and I’m sure she is experiencing joy now. But her absence is still so overwhelming. I can’t yet feel joy. I am resuming normal activities during the day, though, even if robotically.
As I write this morning, I’m dipping the last of some cookies mom gave me for Christmas in a cup of tea. She thought alot about gifts for me and others and always bought special things. My birthday is next week and I know she would be trying to find just the right gift. My gift from mom this year will be her—the memory of her, the love she had for me, her music (that I listen to daily while driving in my car), and her ever-presence in my life…even when I can’t see or touch her.