On Loss

I'm going to skip the part where I reintroduce myself to you and fully explain my absence from the digital writing scene. We all know where that post leads. (hint: To a subsequent reintroduction and explanation of further absence.)

Rather, I'm going to talk about what it's like, for me, to miss someone who is truly gone. On January 14th, my mother passed away at the age of 57. While she had been varying levels of sick since 2004, her death shocked me. She had gone in to the emergency room for a painful albeit non-life threatening condition on January 5th, when they discovered the toxin levels in her liver were high. On January 6th, she underwent her third liver stent placement, which was successful. I sat with her in post-op and later in her room until they delivered her dinner, at which point I kissed her on the forehead and told her I loved her, and she told me she loved me too.

Those were the last words my Mom spoke to me, and the last time I saw her awake. The following day, while I stayed home to clean up the house for her return, she became increasingly incoherent. Despite a blood transfusion that night, she was worse on Wednesday morning when my Dad went up, and they had to move her to the IR, where she was placed in a coma, one that she would not wake up from.

I spent countless hours by the Mom's side over the course of the following week. But I can't quite picture her in that state, a mental block I'm glad I have. I don't want to remember her like that. When I think of my Mom, I think of all the television we watched together, the walks around the yard admiring nature, the adventures in Lumberton. Those are pleasant memories, ones that brings a smile to my face. This is part of missing someone, missing the shared experiences and happy moments. But it is not all that you miss.

Most painfully, you miss the future moments you could have had. Things you wish you could say, things you have to learn to do alone, moments where you desperately want that person with you. Luckily, these are usually in passing or else I'd be tortured on a daily basis just doing the dishes or watching crime dramas. While I certainly wept when she passed away and I wept when we buried her, I haven't since. Nothing has brought me to that level of sadness, as each day has been equally bad as the previous one. However, I do think that there will be monumental days in my life in which her absence will bring me to tears. When I get married, and when I have my children, I will surely be a wreck, as I promised my Mom I would make her an integral part of those events unlike my older brother.

I wanted to share this with you simply to get it out of me. I don't expect any of these feelings and thoughts to be shocking, but as someone who had never experienced the loss of a loved one before, I was unaware how I would react. And for those of you who have and continue to support me through this new chapter in my life, I can not thank you enough, you have been invaluable to me.