This past July 4th marked what would have been mom’s 92nd birthday. I was always so confident that she would live to her 90s, even while her condition deteriorated. I know. I was not being realistic but I was hopeful.
This holiday has become quite bittersweet for me. But I’m now able to remember all the wonderful birthdays of hers that we celebrated – watching the fireworks on the banks of the Trinity, my brother flying down and surprising her, celebrating her 89th birthday – her last – with our future son – and daughter-in-law.
And now, we’ve been blessed once again with that one thing that mom so wanted to be present for – her great-grandchildren. Four months after our first beautiful grandson entered our lives, comes another, and named after mom.
So welcome sweet, sweet little “L.” Welcome to the world and to our family, and know that you are named after a wonderful, fun and loving woman, and are so loved just like she was.
A year ago yesterday, on Feb. 10, I lost mom. I still can’t believe it’s been an entire year since she’s been gone.
I have now gone through an entire year of holidays, family celebrations and birthdays without her. And this year, there will be another wedding of a grandchild without her.
When I think of mom (which is practically a daily occurrence), I am slowly starting to think of her with warm and loving memories and not the profound loss I feel. I know, and I’ve said this before, that mom would be furious to know that she’s caused so much sadness in my life. I can hear her saying, “Oh, Jane…”
Since her passing I have suffered from situational depression. Some days have been worse than others. Some, really not too bad. Weekends have been the hardest since mom and I spent practically every weekend together for nearly five years.
After counseling via Dr. R and my hospice bereavement counselor I decided to give an anti-depressant a try. Now, anyone who knows me know how anti-pills I am and if I don’t have to take one I won’t. But constant bouts of crying, losing passion for things I once had and just a general blah and blase feeling about things prompted me to give it a try.
I hated it. Almost immediately I started waking up several times in the middle of the night and it paralyzed any normal emotion I had. I understand it’s supposed to do the latter but I hated it. I even tried thinking about things that would normally evoke crying from me but I couldn’t shed a tear. After two weeks I knew I had to stop it. I spoke to my doctor and luckily this was one drug that you didn’t have to wean yourself from. It was surprising to her that it acted that fast on me. It took a full three weeks to get it all out of my system. I never thought I would be so happy to cry again, but I was. I got my “self” back.
I still have not been able to re-visit certain places mom and I used to go to and don’t know when I will.