Missing, Grieving...

On Saturday I went to Mum's grave for the first time since she was buried. I wasn't able to bring myself to go before now.

When Mum first passed, I was having a hard time dealing with the aftermath of her hospital stay. Especially the last 48 hours she was alive. I guess the only thing I could compare it to is when you see something really violent or disturbing, like a movie or something, and those scenes keep replaying in your mind over & over. I kept thinking about how on Thursday evening when I went to visit her (the day before she began her respiratory arrest), she kept asking me what time I would return the next day. I told her right after work, as usual, but she kept asking for specifics. She told me about these men that came into the room and that they were hanging off the ceiling, watching her. “I told them I was still alive & that they shouldn’t be here ‘till I was about to die…” Did she know that her time was up? More importantly, did she finally accept it? I guess she must have, because when they tried to give her oxygen that Friday, she jumped out of bed, pulled out all of her various tubes & needles and said “I’m done, no more…”

Over the last week I've been moving into the "missing" phase of the grieving process. The void of not having my mother here is becoming more & more apparent to me. It's like that aspect has been removed a few degrees from my consciousness. I can't just call & yack with her anymore, I can't have my once a week visit with her, she won't be there when I graduate, she won't be there for me if (big if) I ever do get married or have children. Everyone keeps saying that in a way she will be there, and I’ve felt her presence very strongly several times, but it's just not the same.