Unfair
You never realize what you're holding back until you lose your mind completely.
I thought I was doing fine. I was moseying along through life, one day at a time, making things work.
Until today, when things just didn't work at all any more.
I woke up feeling 'off'. Not quite stressed, not quite worried. Just not quite right, either. So I hopped out of bed, fed the dogs, hooked them outside, began the laundry. By 11 am, half of the house was clean.
Things still weren't right. In fact, they were somehow less right than when I had woken up at 7 am.
I was snapping at my kid, snarling at the world as a whole.
Chachi came home from work, and things got even worse. I was yelling, stomping, behaving like a temperamental two year old, really.
As only my husband could, he softly said, "Renn. What is wrong, honey? Hard boiled eggs and laundry just don't throw this sort of mood on you."
And try as I could to stomp off and scream, I couldn't. Suddenly, I was a crumpled mess on the bed, sobbing.
All I could say was "I. Miss. My. Mom!"
He picked me up, hugged me, and simply said, "Oh."
I was overtaken, out of the blue, with such melancholic rage that I was shaking. I yelled; I screamed; I stomped my foot at how unfair it all was. I sobbed the entire time noting how ungrateful I had been as a kid, how stubborn and mouthy I was. How I had caused her so much pain over the years.
And then I up and moved twenty two hours away.
And then she died.
Chachi said nothing the entire time. He simply sat next to me, handing me tissues and kissing the top of my head. I continued for a good ten minutes or so, stopping short of outright cursing and flipping off God and Jesus and Love as a whole.
My daughter paced in the kitchen the entire time, at a loss. Nooze is a fixer, and she was unsure if a Broken Momma could be repaired. So she walked back and forth quitely, waiting.
When I finally stopped for a breath, Chachi simply asked that, next time, I avoid holding it in for so long. It isn't healthy. I should know was all he added.
Then it hit me.
He really does know. Chachi lost his mother to cancer when Nooze was less than two months old.
Grief is a selfish bastard. It convinces you that you are all alone, that no one else understands.
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I wish that I could say I'm 100% now, that I've been fixed and I'm healed and hallelujah let's dance.
But that would be a lie. So screw it.
I'm not okay and I'm not perfect and life is no damn fair.
I miss my mother.
Happy Frigging Mother's Day.
I thought I was doing fine. I was moseying along through life, one day at a time, making things work.
Until today, when things just didn't work at all any more.
I woke up feeling 'off'. Not quite stressed, not quite worried. Just not quite right, either. So I hopped out of bed, fed the dogs, hooked them outside, began the laundry. By 11 am, half of the house was clean.
Things still weren't right. In fact, they were somehow less right than when I had woken up at 7 am.
I was snapping at my kid, snarling at the world as a whole.
Chachi came home from work, and things got even worse. I was yelling, stomping, behaving like a temperamental two year old, really.
As only my husband could, he softly said, "Renn. What is wrong, honey? Hard boiled eggs and laundry just don't throw this sort of mood on you."
And try as I could to stomp off and scream, I couldn't. Suddenly, I was a crumpled mess on the bed, sobbing.
All I could say was "I. Miss. My. Mom!"
He picked me up, hugged me, and simply said, "Oh."
I was overtaken, out of the blue, with such melancholic rage that I was shaking. I yelled; I screamed; I stomped my foot at how unfair it all was. I sobbed the entire time noting how ungrateful I had been as a kid, how stubborn and mouthy I was. How I had caused her so much pain over the years.
And then I up and moved twenty two hours away.
And then she died.
Chachi said nothing the entire time. He simply sat next to me, handing me tissues and kissing the top of my head. I continued for a good ten minutes or so, stopping short of outright cursing and flipping off God and Jesus and Love as a whole.
My daughter paced in the kitchen the entire time, at a loss. Nooze is a fixer, and she was unsure if a Broken Momma could be repaired. So she walked back and forth quitely, waiting.
When I finally stopped for a breath, Chachi simply asked that, next time, I avoid holding it in for so long. It isn't healthy. I should know was all he added.
Then it hit me.
He really does know. Chachi lost his mother to cancer when Nooze was less than two months old.
Grief is a selfish bastard. It convinces you that you are all alone, that no one else understands.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I wish that I could say I'm 100% now, that I've been fixed and I'm healed and hallelujah let's dance.
But that would be a lie. So screw it.
I'm not okay and I'm not perfect and life is no damn fair.
I miss my mother.
Happy Frigging Mother's Day.
Labels: Family
posted by rennratt at 5:44 PM
17 Comments:
While I cannot say this was exactly poetic, I can certainly say it has touched me more than any other Mother's Day post I have read so far. This is my first Mother's Day without my mom. Your outburst is my outburst. Your anger is my anger. Your deep love is my deep love. How can a person say "Happy" Mother's Day when that great gal is gone. But oh such wonderful memories linger. Thank you for turning me loose. Damn, damn, damn! And, by the way, your entry was poetic because, as Wordsworth said, "Poetry is the spondaneous overflow of a powerful feeling."
Ah. Renn.
I sat here staring at the screen after reading this post for a full five minutes - wishing I had something wonderfully comforting and thoughtful to say to you - unfortunately I came up empty.
I'm just sorry, and sad for you, and offer you my support however I can give it.
JC
That was beautiful. I'm missing my mother too...and today I miss being a mother. Here I sit at the Children's Hospital with my grandson of 12 and I just want to be home...cooking a meal for my sons and grandkids...visiting my mom at the long-term center. Life certainly isn't fair...but I'm proud to be a mother...I'm thankful and grateful that my mom is still alive although her health is declining.....and I'm thankful I can stay with my grandson till he gets his bone marrow transplant and we can go home again.
Your post was truly touching.
Renn, I'm so sorry. As you know, my mom is also gone, but I have found my biological mom this year - so this one is a strange one for me. After my mom died (and my dad had died a year earlier), I just tried to focus on my own status as a mom. You are the matriarch now and you can be all those things and more to Nooze. {{{HUGS}}}
Like Cravey, I have nothing insightful to say. I miss my mom too, and she has been gone over 20 years. It doesn't get better, Renn, but you learn to live with it.Happy Mother's Day to you.
Ah...geez...
((((((((((((( HUGS)))))))))))
that's the best I can do.
Like Nooze, I'm afixer. I know the pacing because you're not good in these situations. Chachi is. Listen an know it's OK to scream. Then hug your daughter, it's the best way to carry on your Mother's legacy.
Hugs.
You're human you know? Don't beat yourself up too hard. Your mom loved you. She was there for a long time. It's okay to miss her and you're right, grief is a f-ing bitch. I lost my dad 11 years ago and I HATE FATHER'S DAY....I wish I could send you a box of hugs.
Sweetie,
I am sorry you have to feel this grief. You are right life is NOT fair. Take the memories -- the good stuff -- and let the bad stuff go..........and Chachi is right -- don't let it go so long. He seems to be there for you....use him :)
Renn,
Realize that when someone passes on, that wherever they are they know how much they are loved. They understand the human errors we made as children because they did the same to their parents and they forgave us the moment it happened. Understand also that wherever they are they are feeling that same love for you and hoping for you to be happy. It's how I dealt with losing my mother and it doesn't always work, but it's good to realize.
Yes.
I felt this all the way to my toes. I wish I could give you a big hug...not that it takes away any pain but just to reach out as one human, imperfect, fragile soul to another.
Sending lots of love your way.
What makes me crazy about reading this post is that MY Mother is alive and well and in California, and I haven't talked to her in five years. It makes me crazy that she, and my father, are missing out on my kids, by their own choice.
So, so, sad.
(hugs)
Yeah.
I am the same way with grief and anger--holding it in until it bursts the dam, instead of letting it trickle out. But those around you, like you said to me, are stronger than you give them credit for, and I'm sure Chachi, and Nooze, can help handle your grief for you.
I'm taking how you feel to heart, and though I know I could, at times, be rotten as a kid, I've still got time to make it clear to my mom that I love her. Thanks for that lesson, and all the advice you've given me so far.
Lots of hugs, Renn. Your mom still loves you, and knows you love her, even if she's not around for you to tell her so.
I know you miss her so much. I miss mine too. It is what it is, somehow we have to find a way to keep going on. If it helps, please know that I care!!
Yeah. that about sums it up.
Wish I could offer something useful but all I have is empathy and prayers for healing.
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