My sister must have said that 10 times since my mom passed away on June 11.
I also must have written 10 different versions of this diary since then.
Well this is how it finally ended up.
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To those of you who are suffering, I can only say, "Take the love that is offered, it is not a cure, but it is a balm to ease you through." To those who are further down the road, "Thank you for hanging out to help the suffering." And to all of you, "Thank you for being online, wherever and whoever you are. You are precious." h/t nancelot
Here is a link to previous diaries in The Grieving Room series.
After the funeral, "It seems so final now"; taking the last of her items out of her apartment, "It just makes it seem so final"; dropping off the check after the little she had was split between the siblings, "Doesn't it make it seem so final now?". After the first 2 or 3 times, we started to laugh about it. We had to. It was either laugh or cry and I always tend to gravitate to laugh, which unfortunately, is sometimes inappropriate.
When is someone's death final? Is it ever final? The beginning seems easier to pinpoint as it can be the moment someone actually passes away, or falls into a coma, or never really fully wakes up after surgery, like in my Mom's case. It got me wondering why we want it to be final. I know for a fact that I have been avoiding with some success accepting that she is really gone. I try not to think about it, because when I do of course I feel terrible and sad.
So is not letting it be final an act of denial, or a helpful coping mechanism? Isn't that why we save stuff and pictures of our loved ones, so that they stay with us in some small way? Whenever I use the mixing bowls that belonged to my Mom, I smile and think of her. When I am at the kitchen sink (which is more of my day than I care to admit), I am staring at the cool red glass carafe that was in my childhood home, and then my mom's apartment. I've begun knitting a blanket with her needles and yarn.
I have compiled a small photo diary of my Mom, and some of the things that make me smile and think of her every single day.
My Mom came to this country from Yugoslavia in the late 1940's. Most of her family was lucky enough to get out alive, as the Russians chased them from their home and town during the war. She lived in Chicago, learning English by speaking it, and became a seamstress at Hart, Schaffner & Marx. She met my dad in the late 50's, and they had been married for 40 years when he died in 1998. Her main focus that entire time was caring for our family.
Here is a picture of me with my Mom and Dad, and then just my Mom holding me.
I really don't have a lot of pictures of either myself or my Mom. We both hated with a passion having our picture taken. Even more rare is a picture of us together; there are less than 10 that I can scrounge up (it is frustrating to me now, so I have made a mental note to get some pictures of myself with my kids for their memories). One thing that I did notice is that in almost every one of them, new or old, she is looking at me. This is the last picture I have of us together, and it is from last summer.
As strange as it may seem, I use this sugar dispenser every morning knowing that for over 40 years she used it, and that makes me think of her and smile.
My mom loved to read, a love she passed on to me. One of my sisters and I split up her book collection and I plan on reading every single one of them. She told me once that when she just started to work after arriving in this country she didn't get to keep most of the money as it went to the family. She did, however, get a little bit of money everyday for lunch and bus fare, and used to save it to buy books.
My Mom made a hot breakfast every single morning, and used this to do so. Now when I cook my family breakfast I think of her.
This is prominently displayed in my kitchen because that is where I spend most of the day. I really can't explain why it is so significant to me, but it is impossible for me not to think of her when I look at it.
So maybe I am in denial. Probably. But I'm OK with that for now. Is it possible to grieve while in denial? I think so, but I think that I may just be scraping the surface, and I am OK with that for the time being.
Otherwise it would seem too final.