I am 3 days late with my memorial post this month.
This has nothing to do with any kind of lessening of import of the 15th day of every month.
It has even less to do with any feeling on my part that it might be time to stop marking every second, every minute, every hour, every day without Her.
It does have to do with the fact that life inevitably moves on and no matter how strong my grief is, the force of it still cannot keep the world from turning. I wish that I could crawl into a hole every month on the anniversary - of course I wish that I could crawl into a hole pretty much every day - and some days I do. But for the most part I can't and if I just keep moving I can accept that.
The dark hole isn't going anywhere after all.
So how was this last month for me? I think I will always remember that it took me six months to reach my limit. I kept pushing myself but I'm there. It took Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Years but I'm done.
This month has been filled with growing anger; with ever building resentment; with small annoyances escalating to massive exasperation.
Rationally I know that it is my own imagination, my own sense of guilt, my own ego, that places everything on my shoulders and then causes me to snap when I feel overwhelmed.
Rationalism has no place here.
I feel constantly on edge. The edge is crumbling away beneath me daily.
All of this is going on in my waking hours (long waking hours, since I don't sleep well.)
When I do sleep, I dream.
I dream of my mother and She is alive. She is so alive that every morning (or middle of the night) upon waking I am forced to relive the horrible fact that She is gone.
That's another thing that has happened this month.
I thought I was past the stage of picking up the phone to call Mom or expecting Her to walk through the door. I was so glad that I was done with false hope. But it's back.
I don't pick up the phone to call Her. But when the phone rings I often think it's Her.
When the front door opens in the evenings I turn towards the sound, sure Mom is home from work.
As I walk down the hall at night, I am sure I hear Her breathing in her bed.
I am at my limit.
Last week I booked a vacation finally. I leave tomorrow. Alone, a week alone to think clearly and put things in perspective. Or not. A week to let go and be selfish and let grief take whatever form it will.
Thank you to all of you have been supportive of me and assured me that I deserve this chance to take care of myself. I really don't think I would have booked this trip without you.