Mom died exactly four months ago. She was buried 112 days ago. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since I last saw her, but it’s only been 120 days.
This whole week has felt weird, like I’ve been filled with anxiety, dread, and unexplained worry, more than the usual. I didn’t put two and two together until yesterday afternoon when my boyfriend asked how I was doing and if I was ready for Thursday. I was so confused until he gently pointed out the anniversary and then it all made sense. I am grateful he reminded me; I just thought that perhaps I was finally going off the deep end.
Last night was rough. I couldn’t sleep and when I was able to do so, I had strange and unsettling dreams. The day has been uneventful and I’ve been trying to take care of myself, something that seems to be getting a little easier. It still hurts like hell that I’m not able to talk to my mom and share with her everything that’s been going on and I know it will be a while before that pain dulls.
I miss you, Mom.