Home. I'm not fully sure what that means. The roadmaps that had very obvious signs to Home in my heart have been washed away. They are empty pages. I arrived to find April was still the month on the calendar, and two cards on the table from her; one from Easter and the other a thank you note from her birthday, the day she entered the hospital.
There have been a couple of articles on my Mom in the local papers. The first is from the Albuquerque Tribune, the second the Albuquerque Journal. It's a tiny glint of a sliver of her life and her spirit.
Grief is not at all how I imagined it. I thought I would cry, and then cry and cry, and then cry some more for several weeks straight without stopping. I thought I would do things like break glass items and shave my head and throw everything I own away. But this is subtler, more intense, and less dramatic than I expected. It's a hole. A hole that gets wider, slowly but steadily, each passing hour. It widens until there is a great gaping cleft where Hope and Memory used to be. I'm so afraid I am forgetting her face.
The thing was, she was fading away before our eyes. Over a year's time, she did the subtlest disappearing act. Or, really, it was not so much that she disappeared, but the Disease overshadowed her. It was insidious and unstoppable. There is no way to relate to you how she suffered, partly because only she knows how bad it was. We could only watch in dismay and horror at the pain and nausea she endured. This was what only my brother had the courage to talk about at the funeral. He said she didn't have a white flag, that she just kept fighting even when the battle was lost. That was her way, and her choice.
I think coming back to my apartment in LA has made me realize the finality of her passing. At her home I was surrounded by her things, and it felt like she was still a room away. But here, I realize I will not be seeing her anymore. I can't even call her to ask how long chicken lasts in the refrigerator, or what to do about my agent, or if she likes a song we wrote, or how to get George W out of the White House. I don't even know who or what I'll be without her. I am starting over.
I feel like someone put a pinprick in my heart and I'm leaving a trail of blood wherever I go. At least you will know how to find me.
I think you can probably still ask all those questions and more. And I think she'll get an answer to you. William F. House | Homepage | 06.07.04 - 11:08 am | #
I was totally going to say the same thing but William beat me. I think if anybody has the magic to be a faerie angel mom it's your mom. And that way she'll always be around. ashleyface | 06.07.04 - 12:46 pm | #
You're not starting all the way over, you know. You will be who you are. She's going to be a part of you forever, whether she's here physically or not. And you do each other such credit. Maure | 06.08.04 - 5:54 am | #
I think you should wallow around in your memories of her, let every single happiness and sorrow wash over you, collect them in a pool beneath your feet, and draw a little from it always, feeding your art, your dreams, and your outlook everyday...I love you. tifanie | 06.08.04 - 9:00 am | #