The Anticipation?

I don't know what you think this post is going to be about from the title I gave it, but it's not what you may think. Today is 6 months since my mom has died. Six months from the date. Half a year.

I have good friends who aren't afraid to ask me how I'm doing. Thanks girls. That probably means the most to me. My husband knows and gives me extra hugs. Last night was probably the worst of the anticipation of this milestone. I don't know how it is for anyone else but it's always leading up to the "date" that is the worst for me.

Last night I was reliving those moments on the 18th/19th of May when my world stopped and then re-started. I soooo wanted my brain to just shut off and not think about it and not re-live it in my mind but I couldn't. I can't remember what I was wearing that night but I remember the drive to the hospital in the middle of the night and I remember the looks on everyone's face. I remember knowing on my way there that she was gone and that I was walking into a living nightmare, before anyone even told me my mom had died. I remember seeing my mom laying there on the gurney and the feel of her body. I remember how sweet the nurse was to me and everyone else and I remember how awful the funeral home guy was on the phone.

Six months. In six months my girls have lost two teeth a piece. My son has made the honor roll for the first time. The girls started kindergarten. We bought a new van. Stephen got a snake. My dad retired. Kate got married. Mav turned 13. Stephen, myself, Sammy, Melissa, my dad, the girls and Dylan have all had birthdays without my mom being here. Beth started divorce proceedings. Life went on.

While it's going on there is a piece of me who wants to turn back the clock to May 18th. To the last time I talked to my mom. I can replay that conversation in my head but it's not enough. I want more. I'll never get it but I still can't help but wanting it.

This week we face six months and Thanksgiving. All I want is my mom to be here and instead I've got plans to help my dad buy a grave blanket and go to the cemetery tomorrow.

In six months I've learned a few important lessons. When the going gets tough I can get through it with grace and maturity. I can be a rock for everyone else and still have my moments of falling apart. I can enjoy life even though the one who gave me life is no longer living. I can't change the past. I can't dwell on the past. But I can enjoy the here and now. I can fill my mind up with memories.

Because in the end, that's all life is. A bunch of memories that people are left with. I prefer to make those memories count and be as good as it gets.