An End to the Mourning

On Saturday, we went to the cemetery. It was the first time since my mother died in January. Because we had a car for the day to take my son to attend "Admitted Students Day" at the school he will attend next fall, I wanted us to go to the cemetery. Stupidly, in my mind, it would mark the end to the mourning. By going to the cemetery, seeing my mother's grave and facing the truth that she was not coming back, I could let go of the sadness and move on.

There is no moving on. At least, not for now. Standing there did not make it seem more "real." And since her plot did not yet have grass growing, it was just so obvious that the wounds are fresh. I feel so stupid. I thought that I could leave my sadness there. But it is still with me and, today, it is as strong as ever.

I miss my mom. I miss her so much. It does not feel real that I should be expected to just keep going on without her. I need her. I need her to make me laugh. I need her advice which was always spot-on. I need her to bolster me. I feel so lonely without her.

I stopped off at my father's the other day. He needed a lightbulb changed, and I could barely finish the job. I kept looking into the bedroom, at my mother's lounge chair. I wanted to ask, "Where is Mommie, anyway?" She should be there. We all need her. She died at 71. She should have had so much more time. We should have had so much more time together.

Will this ever, ever get easier?