A work in progress

I’m wearing one of mom’s favorite tops today. It’s one of my favorites, too, which is why it, like some other items of her clothing found a new home in my closet.

I continue to find keeping a number of her things close to me comforting. Who knows how long I’ll keep using her nail polish on my toes. But I like looking down at my toes and imagining hers. I still have all of her clothes neatly piled up in a spare bedroom where Charlie likes to nest during the day. He likes to stay close to her, too.

Is this unhealthy? I don’t know. All I know is that I find great comfort in it. Just like using the body lotion she used and taking in the scent during the day. It simply smells like mom and I take such comfort in that. Keeping her nearby.

Her absence is approaching four months now. I still can’t believe she’s gone, as I told a good friend and former boss at dinner last night, who listened sympathetically. I know he understands as he is very close with his mom.

Still, I hesitate to burden friends with my feelings about losing mom, even though they insist that’s what they’re there for. That’s why the group counseling was good. We were all in the same place and were able to unload unconditionally.

I still remain in a kind of funk where I really have no enthusiasm for anything. I’ve gotten back on a schedule with my Pilates and Barrre workouts, which helps energize me. With all the wedding preparations, I always have mom in the back of my mind. I need to try to find a way to compartmentalize these feelings or at least turn some of these sad markers into positives.

I remain a work in progress.



7 thoughts on “A work in progress

  1. I’m no expert but, no, I don’t think it’s unhealthy. It sounds very healthy to me, actually.

    I see a therapist, too. I’ll never forget the day she told me that I should start treating myself like I was my own best friend. If my best friend was grieving, and down, and putting the pieces together what would I say to her? Would I tell her (like I so often tell myself) to get over it? Or would I bring her some tea and sit with her and listen? It was pretty eye-opening for me.

    So that’s what I’ll say to you, now. I’m so sorry you’ve lost your mother. Your loss is so new, and that grief is right there at the surface. Do what feels right to you, and treat yourself kindly and gently right now. Like you are your own best friend.

    • Loni, thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words. This grieving process can be just so exhausting at times. Tea sounds wonderful right now! Wise advice. Thank you.

  2. I don’t think it’s unhealthy. When my mom died, my dad insisted that I go through her clothes and take what I wanted. At first it felt really weird going through my mom’s stuff, taking her clothes. But when I wear something that my mom once wore I feel comforted (she also had great taste in clothes). It’s a reminder that my mom is always with me, always in my heart. Even after 3 years, I still love wearing my mom’s clothes and jewelry. I wear them with pride and love. Take care.

    • You’re so right, Kathy. It is very comforting to wear things that belonged to my mom and keep her close by. It will be so bittersweet but one of my mom’s lace handkerchiefs will be wrapped around the stem of my daughter’s bridal bouquet, so she will be there.

      • What a great idea. When my mom was fighting cancer, she held onto the dream of dancing at her grandson’s wedding. That is what kept her going. Somehow she will be at both of her grandkids’ weddings. I’m not sure if I can give up her engagement ring, but there are others I can give to my daughter. I will think of something for my son – he was so close to his grandmother.

  3. The disheartening thing about this is that my mom so wanted to see her grandkids married and have those great grandchildren. When my daughter got engaged I thought that this would give her something to really look forward to. I spoke to my mom’s doctor after her death wanting to understand what happened since it seemed to suddenly happen so fast. She told me that Alzheimer patients get to a point where they give up their will to live. I was so shocked to hear this because my mom wanted nothing more than to be at a grandchild’s wedding. Since her passing I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching replaying our conversations in my head, reading observations that I wrote down and basically torturing myself. In fact, this will be good fodder for my counseling sessiont this afternoon. But, I do know that a piece of her will be there physically, and of course, she will most certainly be there in our hearts.

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