This is what a bereaved mother does, she prepares herself for an upcoming milestone (holiday, birthday, etc.) without her child. She steadies her balance, finds comfort any way she can.
Deep meditative breaths, yoga, writing thoughts down, shopping the hell out of credit cards. Ummmm, next paragraph.
She cannot multi-task during this time. As I have proven to myself over these past 3 weeks. She can simply take on one task at a time, or stress in a raw form sets in.
I have forgotten more than I remembered.
I have missed deadlines, missed commitments to my boys, missed phone calls, special occasions. I feel like shit right now just thinking about how many late cards I have sent. What the hell good is a to-do list at a time like this?
Today it was someone very special’s birthday gift. On my kitchen table. I will give it to her tomorrow and I know it will have same meaning. However, for me any amount of forgetfulness, it’s upsetting. I used to be able to handle it all, and then some.
When I was in California, I promised my Mom we would talk more often. Have I called her this past week, maybe 2? No. I forgot, time simply passes. What kind of a daughter am I?
I am so stuck in my own brain about my birthday coming on Monday and Anthony being gone, I simply crumble into myself the minute the workday is over.
When I get home, I close my door and turn off the outside world. I casually watch TV, read a book or play games on my phone. I simply do anything to not “think” anymore.
I do anything I can to put the days in front of me out of sight and mind.
So, like I said, no multi-tasking.
I am simply stuck in a space where I am turning 50 and I have to come to the realization, without breaking down into chest wrenching sobs, that my first born will never see his 50th. He will never get married, buy a house, have kids, need a viagra (lightening the mood here), or retire. He won’t even see his 25th birthday.
I was a mother of 3 healthy boys on September 12, 2015. Fast forward one year…
I sit on the famous bench at the cemetery Saturday and asked Anthony what he would say to me this year? What would he write in my birthday card?
I trace his face and read him the birthday card he gave me in 2015.
“I will try harder to make you scream less. You’re the best mother a guy like me could hope for. I know I haven’t made life easy for you and I will try to make this year better and change. I love you so much Ma. Love, Anthony.”
He certainly changed. Who knew he would leave me?
Who knew that 2015 card would be one of the last handwritten notes I have from him? I don’t have a voicemail or recent video.
He wasn’t married, nor had any children, so there is no “legacy” he left behind.
Omg could you imagine how gorgeous his kids would be? Oh if only there was one with his blue eyes and defiant spirit.
See, I am already sidetracked. Thinking about my Anthony this week is an all encompassing experience.
I smack his headstone every time I enter and leave the cemetery. “You’re a moron for leaving me here.”
This time, on Saturday, when I got no audible answer to my question about what he would write in this years card, I got up off the bench and smacked his headstone again. I am so mad that he is silent and can’t answer.
He always had an answer. He always had an “I will try harder” at the ready. Now, he has nothing.
I have nothing.
Those “try harders” were empty promises, he never did, but he wrote the words.
For one moment he had an intention, good or simply to shut me up. He had an intention to make me feel better about life with him in it.
Now what? It’s a year later and he is in Heaven, probably pissing off someone up there. I am here on Earth, wishing he was pissing me off.
Gosh I miss yelling at that child.
We had some arguments…
Here I go again on a tangent.
About 8 weeks ago I took a photo of him and put through the app Prisma to create this picture. My friend liked the results so much he printed it for me and framed it.
Everyone knows that Anthony is central to my happiness. I know that by looking at this picture, I created something that someone else thought was special, and they decided to share it back with me.
That wonderful sentiment alone makes me happy. It shows me that my life has blessings, and that Anthony’s memory will always be in mine and others minds.
While his memory may be in our minds, he is also in our hearts. And the heart is the thing that breaks the easiest.
I keep telling my heart that it will go on, like the Celine Dion song. However I guess I’m going to have to be 50 in order to realize it.
That darn song makes me cry now more than ever. Here’s the video:
Monday is on its way, like it or not, and I hope I will be ready.
I plan doing some yoga and then spending the morning with Anthony at the cemetery. I will take it from there.
Bottom line is, I am turning 50 and I have a new normal. Any suggestions for me?