One Year

“My mother died a year ago.” A year? That’s a while. You’re moving on, right?

Yeah, I’m starting to because time goes on no matter how hard you fight it. In fact, you can’t fight it. Time’s a concept, not something I could try to grapple and beat up, or sue in court for emotional damages. The last time I saw her is getting farther and farther away, but running backwards does literally nothing except cause injuries. I feel almost stuck, like everyone is moving forwards and I’m just being tugged along. 

I still can’t believe she’s not here. I might see something in the news and think, “well Mum would have a lot to say about this,” but she doesn’t… because she’s dead. Obviously.

Okay, so I’m struggling with a little bit of writer’s block to properly memorialize the greatest person I’ve ever known. This is a lot less poetic than my usual unceremonious writing style (although I think ‘unceremonious’ is a good word).

What I’m trying to get at is the feeling that she should be here. She should be going to concerts with us, and grocery shopping, and staying up really late, and watching Jeopardy while playing along.

I know it’s stupid to complain about how unfair it is. Everything is random. If I had that ‘everything happens for a reason’ mindset things might feel even more unfair. One of the most infuriating parts is seeing horrible people live so much longer than her. Trump is 79 and using his seemingly never-ending time to make the world so much worse than it was the day before. My mum was the best person I knew and had so much more to contribute to the world. She was so smart and capable, and she ran out of time while actively contributing in any way she could to CNETs. But she doesn’t get a chance to do that, while horrible people make it into their 90s. I can’t say this is a reasonable thing to be mad about, but it’s just as infuriating all the same. 

I still get to talk to her in my dreams sometimes. That’s nice. I’ve probably gotten a few extra hugs through that, but also I got my head chopped off and she seemed really unbothered, so they’re not all winners. 

I still miss her so much it sometimes physically hurts. I truly hate living without her, but there’s not much that can be done about that. 

It’s here that I would usually try to insert a message of hope so that your last takeaway from this post isn’t such a bummer. Well too bad. This is a bummer and just a bummer. There’s nothing good about losing my mother. Sometimes, the world just sucks.