(The post below was written on June 13, 2020. My mom passed on April 4, 2020.)
It’s hard to believe that it’s been 10 weeks today since my mom passed. I say that every week, but it still doesn’t seem possible.
This is the first Saturday since she died that I woke up and didn’t immediately think about the weekly anniversary of her passing. It took me over an hour to realize that today marks 10 weeks.
Honestly, I feel a little bad about that. How could I forget?
But I also feel like it shows progress in my grieving and healing. And I know my mom wouldn’t want me to wake up every Saturday morning and think about her death.
Grief is tricky. It’s a delicate balance. Wanting to feel the pain and sadness as some sort of proof that I love her enough, that I miss her enough, but also wanting so desperately to feel light and joyful again.
Of course, my mom knows I love her and miss her. I tell her every day when I kiss my pillow with her picture on it.
There’s no need to try to prove it. Not to her. Not to myself. Not to anyone.
So instead of spending the day feeling sad or guilty, I will focus on something good.
My sister, brother-in-law, and nieces are coming over tomorrow. Because of COVID, I haven’t seen them since my mom’s funeral over two months ago. My dad is coming, too. It will be the first time we are all together since my mom’s funeral.
Alzheimer’s took so much from all of us.
COVID took so much from all of us.
It’s time to start living again.
P.S. It was calling for rain tomorrow, but I talked to my mom about that and now the forecast looks clear. Thanks, Mom!