Monday, November 25, 2013

i know so many last words, but i will never know hers.

"grief is like the ocean: it's deep and dark and bigger than all of us. and pain is like a thief in the night: quiet, persistent, unfair."

some people claim that grief gets easier with time, but i guess i always functioned backwards when it came to that stuff. i remember when my mom died i had no clue what was going on. for years after her death i had no clue what was going on. and then the big stuff started happening and i realized she was never coming back. 

at the hospital right before they told me to say goodbye to her one last time i lost my mind. i sat there and started listing off every single event she would miss. every first day of school. my sweet sixteen. high school graduation. college visits. volleyball games. michigan games. my wedding. my first baby. i couldn't stop making that list. i still haven't stopped. for those first few years i didn't realize what it would be like having to experience these things without her. but now i know. and for the passed nine years i have mentally checked off event after event from that list and died a little more each time i did it. 

and while i always thought that the pain would lessen with time, it's only gotten worse. i'm terrified of the day that comes when i have lived more of my life without my mom than with her. and each year as i forget more and more about her, the sadness gets deeper and deeper and i get so scared of forgetting her that i've begun to have nightmares about it. i remember watching the glee episode "the quarterback" and hearing rachel ask mr. shue if he thought she would ever forget finn's voice and the pain and sorrow that she couldn't hide as she said "because i'm afraid that one day i will" broke my heart. 

because she wasn't just talking about finn, she was talking about cory. and all i could think was that yes, yes she would forget his voice. and the way his hugs felt and the way he smelled and his favorite sayings and what his favorite songs were. because i've already started to forget the way my mom would sit in the kitchen on saturday mornings in her big fluffy robe doing a crossword puzzle and the way she saved the crispy fries for last so we could rate the crunch-factor. sometimes i forget the way she loved to listen to books on tape while making dinner and the way she would sing "i see something you don't see" during our easter egg hunts. i forget what it was like to cuddle with her by the christmas tree while she read her favorite nancy drew books to me and how excited she always was to see me after school. i can't even remember what it was like to have her tuck me in at night. 

but i'll never forget the outfit i wore to her funeral or how the day she died was the only time i have ever seen my brother cry. i'll never forget the dances i had to get ready for without her and the broken hearts i had to mend on my own. i'll never forget how happy football games in the big house made her and the way i cried when i got my university of michigan acceptance letter because that's the one moment in my entire life i would share with her if i could only share one. because she bred me to be a michigan wolverine since the moment i was born and all i've ever wanted was to make her proud.
but most of all i'll never forget that the last words i said to her were "i'll never forget you." because i am forgetting her and i feel like i'm breaking my promise to her. nine years have gone by and nine more will go by and then another nine and i'm terrified that one year i won't remember her at all.