Posts Tagged ‘anniversary’

The first year of grief

Saturday, January 20th, 2007

I was at the gravesite thinking, a whole year has passed without our mom and I made it just fine. Jess is a little behind, but she’ll make it just fine, too. Not that I don’t miss her, not that I’d rather she wasn’t with us, and certainly not that I don’t have moments where I feel like I only just lost her. But we’re all still living.

The weather was nice — sunny, clear, not too cold or windy at all. The cemetary was deserted and devoid of color. Last time I visited, it was around Christmas and the graves were full of flowers — bright red poinsettias, miniature Christmas trees. Gifts and flowers and cheerfullness.

I couldn’t help but think how weird it is to visit a patch of grass and think of my mom. Her body’s there, but what does that mean? We brought flowers, we shed some tears, brushed off the gravestone, touched each other for comfort. I had my hand on my father’s calf at one point and realized he was getting thinner. Then I was thinking, god, this is how it starts. You start to get smaller and smaller and pretty soon, you’re just a little wisp of the person you used to be and your breath just leaves you. Then you end up underneath some patch of grass. And yet, we keep living.

Almost a year since my mother’s death

Thursday, January 18th, 2007

Friday is the one year anniversary of my mother’s death. And I think that coming up on it has been harder on me than I realized. I keep crying in the car. Which is somehow where I think of her most often. And I haven’t been talking about it with my friends. Tonight I told someone I’ve only recently met about the accident. Did I tell you how my mother died? Driving on the freeway, slipped into the shoulder, over corrected, went out of control, banged her head real hard on the frame. Died instantly. People said it was violent, the car rolling over and over and bouncing so high in the air. People said she was ejected out of the window. Only the violent part is true.

A friend of mine wrote me the most touching email. It made me cry — in a good way, knowing he’s keeping his fingers crossed for me and I didn’t even know about it. I went for a run at midnight tonight. I know it sounds obsessive, but in my semi fragile mental state, I couldn’t afford not to. Between the calming effects of the run, and the warm fuzzies from his email, I think I can safely fall asleep now.