Still June

This weekend was the sixth anniversary of my mother's passing. Her name was June. She was born in June and she died in June. She was the love of my life.

Needless to say, it's a heavy time of year.

Six years ago

Six years ago I broke.

I woke up every day surprised I was still alive because I swore this pain would kill me. When I think about that time now, I wonder if maybe I was probably a bit annoyed that it wouldn't happen already. The rest of the day I was trying to zone out with Netflix to avoid my husband having to rush home and pick me up off the floor, which happened more than a few times. I forgot to eat, forgot to move. Cried myself to sleep. People in my life thought I wouldn't make it.

I don't know if my husband did, he never said anything or complained, except about me not eating. He's a great husband, like if it was ever in doubt (it wasn't), he was my safety net.

Funeral

I really don't remember a lot from then but I remember this, at the funeral, after the service which I held my composure throughout, with a little help from xanax. I needed to get out of that building.

I moved immediately and quickly. One step into the sun, I fell to my knees, like my legs gave out, I had done my duty and stood strong and could go no further. I screamed, and I screamed, oblivious to anything else until I saw my husband's hand just slide in front of my face. I didn't notice at first, but every scream took me closer and closer to the ground, and the next one would have had my face in the dirt. There he was. He didn't make demands or set ultimatums he was a quiet but ever present guardian.

This year I just kept things low key. Didn't call my sisters or my dad and they didn't call me. I didn't have the energy for anything or anyone else and I'm guessing they felt the same but I don't know.
I am still bitter about that time and talking about it still evokes a deep visceral response (more on that another time). I give no timeline to grief because I really expect it to last forever. I've gotten better at functioning in the world though.

Then Came COVID

COVID was just a few months later and it actually helped me in some respects. Suddenly the world looked like me. Before that I couldn't understand how things just kept moving like it didn't matter that she was no longer in it. It was something I could process. When COVID shut the world down, nothing in my immediate life changed. I was already at home, socially distant. I got the time to recover, the world became my partner through trauma, and we healed together as best we could.

Now I’m a Mother

Now I'm a mommy myself and my girl is a balm to my hurt. I only wish she knew her grandma. People say she looks like me but I can't see it. Somehow, about 3 weeks ago I found myself staring at a photo of my girl when she was still an infant and for the first time I saw a flash of my mother. The tears were instant but I kept it chill. Complicated emotions with that.

Complicated emotions with this whole month. Sometimes I'm still surprised that I've made it 6 years. At 6 months I remember thinking that I was proud of myself for making it that long and also angry that it was something I even had to do. Today I feel the same. 

But I’m here.

Still healing.

Still remembering.

Still loving her—loudly, quietly, forever.