I’m writing this on the eve of September 13th; four years ago today I came back from a three week vacation in Canada. Bestfriendboy picked me up from the airport, I went home and then to see mom in the palliative facility she was at. I stayed for a while until my jet lag finally caught up with me. I sang to her (and me) to fill the silence while I was there because I didn’t know what else to do. Gran settled in to stay with her for the night.
I was asleep when the call came that she had passed. Gran asked me if I wanted to come see her one last time but I didn’t want to. I still stand by that decision. I got up, made some frozen pizza that was already past expiration date but it was all my freezer had to offer and watched Rizzoli and Isles in the middle of the night.
Four years ago I lost the person who brought me into this world.
Septemer 14th has been different to me every year since then. This year, I had mostly forgotten about that day. I wasn’t feeling anxious about it approaching.
I guess you can call that progress. It may be a sign my life feels actually pretty decent these days and it actually does get better with time. Sure, I have bad days where I question everything about myself and just crumble into a pile of tears but in general, this year felt better than 2015. Last summer I was on the border of depression. I still don’t really know why but I can report that this year was better. Summer was actually pretty amazing.
Overall, life is good and I can only hope it looks the same from wherever she is.
Part of me can’t believe it’s been four years.
This feels really weird.
Time passes so fast.
And it does help.