16 days...

I'm afraid of each day. I approach the day with hesitancy and fight the hours that pass by every minute. Yesterday I was afraid of the number 16, today it is the number 17. With each passing day comes another day that my Mom has missed and another day further away from the last day I got to see her...talk with her. I went 28 years straight without my Mom missing a day of my life. Her presence, whether physically near or far, was always there. I knew she would answer her phone, respond to a text, and be there if need be. Now, I face the number 16 with sadness. Her absence is felt more and more. 16 days have gone by where I haven't been able to fill her in on what's going on in my life. Granted, towards the end of her life details were cumbersome and only small talk was appropriate, for she couldn't comprehend the small facts. Simplicity was favored. So why do I want to sit over a cup of coffee with her and share everything that has been happening? That wasn't the norm the past 6 months - why do I long for it now?

The most random things sadden me. I long for her touch the most because that was how she could show love and I could respond during her time in bed. Physical embrace was all we had. That's what I yearn for. That is what instantly brings a tear to my eye. As I sit and think of my Mom I am reminded of her beauty and passion for life. I want so badly to embrace that, allowing that to be part of a my life, in a way that I can remember her. But I find myself stuck in the wallow and stuck in the gut wrenching pain.

This week I have felt “off.” I don't feel right and I feel like my feelings shouldn’t still be raw and evident. I feel the need to hop right back into life and act like things are fading. However, I don’t want these feelings to fade. I don’t want the memories to fade. I am holding tight to them. Every minute I fight the feeling to run or flee – to give up! 

I’m not though! 

I can’t - mostly because I need the support now more than ever.

Two nights ago and in the waking morning I found myself angry. I’m not angry with God. I’m not angry with those around me. I’m angry with myself. I’m angry at the situation I’m in – and I was reminded through mass amounts of emails that I am behind in academics! I’m frustrated with my faith because I feel like it isn’t comforting me whatsoever – and that it should be. Friends mention how it should be comforting to know she is in heaven, know He has a purpose, know things work out for good. I don’t find healing within those truths right now. I believe them but can’t allow those statements to wrap their arms around me and hold me. All I want is for my Mom to be able to hold me. As silly as these sounds, I long for her touch and her motherly influence.

She is still forever missed.