February 23, 2004

four years ago on that day, (which will be tomorrow) my mother died.

I don't know why some remember such a fateful day, like when their family members died, but I guess I'm one of them.
So I've been thinking a lot about her lately, and maybe this is why.

She was such a big part of my life. And I mean, obviously, since she was my mom and all. She was always ALWAYS around, because my dad used to have to work far away from home, so she always was watching my sister, brother, and I. She was the one setting the boundaries, showing us how to act, feeding us, entertaining us, letting us be on our own, and watching us grow. My dad almost didn't play a factor in any of it because he was always working in Colorado, and he had his own house there since the drive was far too long for him to come home every evening. From what I remember, it seemed like every time she called him, she was arguing with him or yelling at him for some reason or another. Sometimes she'd even end up crying. It's difficult to see someone who's supposed to be like a leader to you suddenly fall weak, or falter.
I wrote down some of my thoughts on this a while back, I guess I'll share it w/ y'all who might read =/


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Is it wrong that I feel this way ? I sit here in tears, still wondering why it had to be us. Or why it had to be her. Why did she have to go? We, or at least I, often asked myself if it was her “time”. I would tell myself it wasn’t. From my perspective, she seemed fine. She was determined. I seemingly had an ignorant perspective.
Was she better off? Maybe, I tell myself, she’s in a better place. Her own paradise. Maybe she’s with her dad, talking. Reminiscing about their past, their apparent disturbing past which seemed to change her life for the worse. She’s reminiscing, and she’s doing fine.
What about us? I mean, I’m not trying to sound selfish, but we, or at least I, miss her so much every day! Right now, I feel like I was too young to understand how she was.
..How she was. That makes her sound like a freak. But she wasn’t. She was the epitome of a good mom. She was simply moody. I never saw that in her, I just saw her as an average, caring, loving, awesome mom. Maybe that’s just how were supposed to see our parents. Acting as parents, acting as our guides. And being nothing but. As soon as we see them as something else, perhaps acting immature, or off balance, it becomes different. It becomes painful. It turns into distress. It turns into something you don’t ever want, because you’re scared that life won’t be back to normal.
Maybe you’re right. Because when someone in your family dies, it never does turn back to normal. There isn’t any sort of “normal” to me. It might roll back into the life you once knew as average, but something is missing. It’s not missing, as in I-lost -it-but-discovered-it-hiding-in-my-closet, but more permanent. When you lose something, such as car keys, important papers, or books, it’s something that’s absent. An absent item is simply something which is not in the place you last saw it. When a person is missing, they’ve disappeared. You’re not sure to where, and you’re not sure as to when you’ll see them or if you’ll see them EVER again. And after awhile, you start to give up hope on ever seeing them. You imagine them, you dream about them, and you force yourself to think what they would say in a given situation, even when you have no idea.
But it’s pointless. Your hope drifts off, like the person that died, and joins them in their paradise, in their factitious place. You just hope they’re biding their time, and feeling a lot better than you.