raw. vulnerable.

april 15, 2013. monday. the sad day during which boston went from cheering to grieving.

yet i was lost in the midst of my own personal mourning. that date held a different significance for me.

april 15, 2013. monday. eleven years since my mom's death.

she was my best girlfriend. and beloved confidante.

i realize that sounds a bit cliche. but those who know me know it's not.

it was a monday that year too. april 15, 2002. monday.

i drove my dad back home the night before. 40 minutes from the hospital. so he could have his snow tires removed the next day (last day of the season). we waited for the car that april morning, then headed back to mom's side.

but when we pulled into the parking lot at 11:00, my brother was standing outside. i stopped the car and waited for him to walk over to us. knowing already what words would come out of his mouth.

"mom passed away at 10:15."

and in that moment my world changed.

my mom. my vital vivacious strength. dead. gone.

while we were picking up the damn car. while my sister and brother stepped out to do a quick errand. she'd slipped away.

we'd been beside her, day and night, since she'd been readmitted. but that morning, at that moment, none of her family were THERE.

dad tried to keep me from going in her room. (always protecting the baby.)

but i said i had to see her. i had to say goodbye. i had to make sure someone hadn't made a very bad mistake.

so i went in. and . . . it wasn't my mom anymore.

it was an emaciated hollow shell. and her eyes were covered. those eyes which had always expressed so much LIFE. that would now never see again. symbolically concealed.

i didn't stay long. i told her i liked her and i loved her (my childhood saying). and i kissed her forehead.

but she was gone. forever. it felt final and surreal and inevitable and wrong and unbelievable all at the same time.

and the most ironic thing is that IT STILL DOES. after 11 years.

sometimes i have to catch myself (and i'm genuinely surprised). because i FORGET that she's not here. intuitively it just doesn't seem right, so how can it be true? STILL.

i went to the cemetery monday with a single red rose. to visit my mom. and to cry.

but the gesture seemed so small in comparison to my mom's vibrant dramatic presence. and so pointless really.

she's not there. she's not anywhere anymore.

but i still need her. i still need to talk to her. to review/discuss/figure out my life with her.

she was the biggest supporter of me, my husband, our boys. and that was the most incredible feeling in the world. to know she was 100% - no doubt at all - totally behind us.

it was different than believing in myself (which i do). it was that absolute confirmation from outside that i was definitely on the right track. the best path.

the 2 things that have been the hardest since my mom died?

one, the fact that my sons were cheated out of a longer relationship with her. they were oh-so-close to their grandmama, but they were very young when she left us.

and two, not being able to share my everyday life with her. we spoke to each other every single day, and our at&t bills proved it. then one day. . . nothing. how many times i picked up the telephone that first year! and how many times i cursed cancer as i slammed it back down.

suddenly there was a part of me that felt so very EMPTY. and that sad vacant space is still there. will always be there.

my life has gone on and it's full and it's happy. there is a future beyond grief, no matter how all-encompassing it feels.

but that one piece of me is still hungry. it will never be filled. it will never be satisfied by anything else.

the bond between my mom and me was an unusually tight one. so interlocked that nothing could break through it. except, of course, death.

There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain. Others are far too deep for that. -Hafiz

[moja droga jacie kocham means i love you so in polish. mom used to sing it to us.]

[coincidentally, my mom grew up in a little town 30 miles from boston. not all of her ashes are buried at the cemetery. we each still hold a part of her. and the rest are scattered on her family's massachusetts homestead. the explosions and their aftermath would have upset her deeply. thinking of all those affected by this vicious senselessness.]

[comments are welcome, as always.]

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