Posted by: Ingrid | July 14, 2007

Sometimes I have to tell people that my mom died and it’s almost a shock hearing the words come out of my mouth.  Sometimes I almost feel as surprised as they are, even though I know what happened and have known for over two weeks.

I don’t remember ever being this tired.  I work abbreviated days now, trying so hard to focus and get things done while I’m at my desk, but even that seems a half-hearted mimicry of normal, like I’m functioning at 75% capacity.  It is not uncommon for me to completely put off a task because it involves printing a cover sheet and getting up to fax a piece of paper.  And then I can come home and sleep.  I haven’t cleaned the house in… weeks.  I really think it has been weeks.  It always seems like tomorrow there will be more energy to do things and check things off the list.  But it all goes so quickly.

I am embarrassed by my tears.  There are just so many things that set them off, and how do you explain to someone that you’re crying because their mom is still alive, crying because they can call up and get advice they don’t want and I can’t, crying because some day I have to go through the whole having a family thing with (it feels like) no one to really be there.

I have a shoe box of collected paper scraps and lists and partially filled journals.  I have the journal she wrote in as I was growing up, wrote in it so sporadically.  I want more.  I want questions answered.  I want relationship.  I wanted her to write so much more than she did, wanted to keep part of her with me in her words.  But even that breaks down somewhere.  I just want to hear “I love you.” one more time.

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