Day 8

Last night, I went to back up the voicemails I still have from my mom and somehow I managed to erase the bulk of them, though I did manage to save four. I immediately burst into big, ugly tears and just writing this out is making me cry. I don’t know why I got so upset, I also have a few videos of her, but it just feels like more pieces of my mom that I’ve lost. I’m scared that I’m going to forget how her voice sounds. She couldn’t really form words in the last month of her life and I can’t remember the last time I heard her say “I love you.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that a coworker who wasn’t paying attention as he was driving a fucking forklift hit the cart my mom was pushing, causing her to fall backwards, hit her head on the concrete, and sustain a traumatic brain injury. It’s not fair that she struggled so much after that. It’s not fair she was diagnosed with breast cancer seven months later. It’s not fair that she never got to retire. It’s just not fucking fair that terrible people are still alive and my mom is not.

I’m also irrationally angry with her. I’m angry that she died and left me here. I’m angry that there are whole chunks of her life I don’t know anything about because she was so closed off. I’m angry she never told me my father’s name. I’m angry that she died before the tenth anniversary of my conversion. I’m angry that she won’t be here when I need her.

One of the few things keeping me afloat right now is the community and I am incredibly grateful for that.