There's this hole inside of me. Pain, grief, loss, darkness, ending.
I don't remember the last time my mom and I hung out for fun. There are years where we hung out all the time. There are shows we watched together while sharing dinner many nights of the week. There were trips together, just us. We were best friends. We kept secrets for each other. We were sisters. We were so close.
But I got sick. I got chronically ill. I had problems beyond help. And it was too much. She had health problems too. Obviously. People don't just have heart attacks out of nowhere usually.
But when was the last time we hung out, just the two of us?
I don't know. But I feel like it was years.
When my leg was all messed up, she took my husband to the store. For weeks. He knows the last time they hung out.
I know we went to Shady Maple the Valentine's before she died. That's months before. Feb to Sept. That's months apart.
I know she took me to the hospital in May the year before that. That's not fun. That's not hanging out.
The "new" 4 episodes of Gilmore Girls sat unwatched in my Netflix for a long time. I was waiting to watch it with her. We never did. She might have seen it on hers eventually. I don't know. She was busy.
So busy.
No one from her work came to her funeral. Once they had that tablet back, they never checked in again.
She was strong for everyone. She did everything for everyone. She was the shoulder, the punching bag, the sounding board, the one who covered, the one who fixed. Sometimes the one who broke, and caught hell for it. The family keystone can't break, can't have a flaw. She inherited that role from my grandmother. I believe my grandmother got it when my great grandfather died, a few weeks before I was born.
My dad almost died when my mom was pregnant with me. Fell asleep driving. How hard must that have been for her?
I don't know if it ever got easier.
The hole is so big. It's impossible to fill. It will never go away. It's never going to be okay.
Just like the hole for my daughter.
Just sit here and watch as everyone dies. And eventually I'll be gone too.
Who will take care of my husband? Who will be there for him when he says he doesn't need anyone? He's so good at pushing people away. I'm scared he won't let anyone help him, even if they try to help him for me, in my memory, to allow my soul to rest. But I'm also terrified that he'll go first. I don't want to be without him. I know I could, but I do not want to exist without him. There would be no point.
The hole is very dark. And there is more than one hole. How many holes until there's nothing else? One minute it's lace, then threads, then nothing.
Just words. I'm okay.
Or as okay as I can be and there's really nothing to be done.
The reason I know I'm okay? Because I can look at the pills controlling my menstrual cycle and know that the big emotions are out of balance because of where I am in my cycle. So I know all this will calm down. Without scientific evidence, I would NOT know I'll be okay. And then I would not be. The darkness would win if I didn't have concrete evidence for my logical side to assure me that this is chemical and everything will be more manageable in a few days. I'm dependent on that evidence.
