February 28, 2007~~5:43 p.m.
Same ugly road...

February 15, 1999 was the last time I was in the same room with my mother that she wasn’t connected to a ventilator. In my mind, it is where the memories begin to get very dark and depressing. She went into the hospital on February 22nd and remained there, sedated and unable to communicate, until she died the night of March 8th.

The first few years, I had this horrible ritual during that time where I’d retrace everything that happened during those weeks. I’d wake up every morning during the dreaded three weeks and my first thoughts would be of whatever details occurred on that day... a year ago... two years ago... three years ago... four years ago...

The last couple of years, I think, have been a little better, but still there is a deep, deep emptiness that I feel in a more pronounced way during that part of the year. I know that no one can fix this for me, but it hurts that no one else seems to notice the giant bag of sand that I’m pulling around behind me.

The husband has always tended toward “don’t ask, don’t tell” when it comes to emotional issues. His whole family seems to believe that if you don’t talk about something it ceases to exist. I know that he is aware that the anniversary of mom’s death is approaching; it would be impossible not to be given its proximity to my birthday. Anyway, he hasn’t mentioned it. I presume his logic is that if he doesn’t say anything, we won’t have to talk about it and then I won’t get upset.

I haven’t said anything either because.... I guess I don’t really want to talk about it with someone who doesn’t “get it”. Ironically, the only person I think would really understand, the only person who gave me the sort of emotional support I struggle to live without, was my mom. There is no way that she wouldn’t notice a change, however subtle, in my behavior or my attitude. No way she wouldn’t ask if I was okay and offer me a shoulder to cry on. She understood me; she cared about me in that way that only a parent with a very close bond can. And so, without her I soldier on, holding my pain close to my heart wishing that any of the people I love and rely on for support would even attempt to fill in the holes.

~Alice