Where Am I Now?

So...I'm watching the movie "Happy Feet." It is the last movie I had the chance to go see with my mom, my dad and my daughter, three years and two months ago. Why is that significant you ask? Today, within an hour's time, three years ago, is when I received that devastating call you'll never want to receive. It's the call advising that your life's journey is about to be irrevocably, devastatingly and heartbreakingly altered forever.

My dad called to tell me his wife of 36 years, the mother of his two children, my mother, had left this physical world to continue on her own journey in the after life. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she left us and I have to wonder, in contemplating, where I am after three year's time? Does it feel any better? Is the pain any less excruciatingly fresh? Is it get any easier? Nope. Will it ever?

Sure, I hide behind the sunny, happy, warm, fuzzy exterior the world often demands to see. And that works most of the year. But what to do about the rest of the year. Where am I now? Often I feel like I've made no progress, other than simply making it through another year. That in itself is something, I suppose. The internal pain is so incredibly intense, it's smothering. Admittedly, I'm drowning and I feel like I have no recourse.

I'm crying as I write this and that in itself is a release, small though it is. I haven't been able to cry for awhile now. I'm a goal-oriented person and it's frustrating not to be "there", where ever "there" is. This goes against my very nature.

I suppose "there" is closure. My dad moved to the east coast to be closer to his sister and that seems to have helped propel him on that ever-mystical journey of closure. My sister chooses not to acknowledge it so, while she may be avoiding closure, it seems to be working well for her. My daughter remembers her grandmother but, she's 11. It doesn't impact her world as much. Very few other people in my world remember. So that leaves me. On a very solitary journey, it appears.

I'm determined that year four will be different. Damn it, I will make some progress. I refuse to be stagnant. I'm a writer by nature, hence this very poignant blog. I make no apologies for displaying these very raw emotions. If it's not appreciated, that's ok, I'll continue on this journey by myself.

My aunt sent me the best book ever, "Motherless Daughters", three years ago and I absolutely adore her and this book. It was an incredible read. I'm determined to write my own story, both literally and figuratively, because it seems I am in the stereotyped category of 30 year old women who have lost their mother but the world doesn't seem to understand the depth or the complexity of our continuing grief. Society seems to think it normal for the woman who's lost her mother as a child to grieve -- that's natural. To think it normal for the woman who's lost her mother as a teenager to grieve -- that's natural. After all, she'll never experience prom with her mom. To think it normal for the woman who's lost her mother while in college to grieve -- that's natural. After all, she'll never experience marriage and babies with her mom. But the woman who's lost her mother at the age of 30 should be able to "get over it" by now. After all, she's experienced all of that already so it shouldn't be as big a deal. Well, World, it is.

Surely there are other 30 year olds who are experiencing this same void. I have started writing a book to educate society and open its eyes to this path and the devastating affects this stereotyping leaves. Perhaps in that I will find my closure.

In closing, my mom's favorite song was "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. I have to know she's up there. Watching? No idea. Caring? No clue. But I do know this. I have to reach some closure. I'll drown without it.