Monday, July 29, 2013

Fully torn

I am someone who likes to have goals, and likes for those goals to be accomplished. If there is a list, I want to be nearby that list with a pen, hopping from foot to foot like a little kid about to have an accident in their pants, in anticipation of crossing things off.

Josh has cracked this code, and totally changes his speech to manipulate me into doing what he wants. Instead of saying we should just lay around at the beach and maybe get some ice cream, he tells me to research the best beach spot, stake it for the day, and then try at least two flavors of ice cream each to determine the best flavor. It totally works. Aside from the fact that I force Josh to move to different spots on the beach three times throughout the day because the best spot changes as the sun moves.

Sometimes we go exploring and I like those days a little bit better, to be honest. Nobody is going to question me as if I wasted the opportunity, but (and yes I realize this is fucked up) I tend to like to always be prepared for my mother to come back to life magically, yelling from another room, 'What are you girls doing?" So I like to have an answer that sounds responsible ready to go.

If my mother were here she would want to go everywhere, and do everything. Each morning she would wake up with an agenda and share it over breakfast (except that here people eat breakfast standing at a high table, like a bar table, rather than sitting down) before setting off to some obscure place that turns out to be awesome after you walk up 300 crumbling steps. Ugh I just want her to COME HERE. I have cried like 40 times thinking about how much fun she'd have. Okay time for 41.


Anonymous said...

I think you're still grieving so much for your mom, Sam, and I'm glad that you're someplace away from the day to day BS where you can relax and have the opportunity to let the grief happen naturally. Maybe you've just been too busy surviving for the past 12 years to reach this point before in the grief process.

It's been nine years and I still miss my mom every single day. But it's no longer a huge crushing pain, more like brief, fleeting sadness whenever I sometimes think about all of our missed opportunities.


Kizz said...

You're right, it's fucking sucks that she can't be there. She'd be so damn excited that you were there, though. She'd be so thrilled that you were getting to do it all.

Nina said...

I'm sure she would love it. I bet she'd be so absolutely over the moon that you get to experience this though.

So glad you're sucking up everything you can out of the trip even if it's bittersweet.

Elaine said...

Yes, I agree with the first poster. You're relaxed, you feel safe, you're through school and responsibility for your sisters is easing up a bit. Now your body and mind are telling you it's okay to mourn; you didn't have the time and energy to do it before, you were so busing taking care of people and surviving. I'm sorry that you're feeling so sad, but expressing it like this has to be good for you.