I just had a moment of panic and tears welling in my eyes. I looked at my computer clock to see how late it really was (I expected to be in bed hours ago) and I saw 12:05am. I thought Thursday was April 3, and it hit me that I forgot the 8th anniversary of my mom’s death.
My day consisted of going to the gym, going to the grocery store, working, watching 1 episode of “Fixer Uppers,” and more work. No thoughts of my mom at all. I glanced at one of her photos for a little longer than a pause, but I didn’t know why. At 12:05am it hit me like a ton of bricks: I went through the entire day forgetting that it was the day she died.
Only, Thursday was April 2nd. I didn’t forget. That means right about now is when the nurses in ICU were telling my sister and I that we could sleep in the room because she might not make it to the morning. My sister slept in one corner of the room while I sat in a chair in an opposite corner, just watching and waiting. I wasn’t sure if machines would beep or people would rush in to save her, or if she would just stop breathing and we’d have to tell someone.
She made it until around 5 or 6am. There was no fuss. Just someone coming to confirm she was gone. I drove home to take a nap and then started making funeral arrangements.
Jump to now. I cried with remorse about how I forgot the date of her death (I had to look up her obituary to confirm). But as soon as I saw that April 3rd was TODAY, I felt foolish. Not because I didn’t know the day on the calendar, but because I wondered: is it really such a shameful thing to begin to forget? The date doesn’t change that she’s gone. It doesn’t change the memories that I have of her. If I think about her more on one day or another, does it change anything? Remembering a loss on any given day can cut just as deep as the next. Perhaps we just feel it when we’re meant to feel it.
I’m closing comments on this one as it’s just one big ‘ol ramble to myself.
More posts about my mom: