What a Difference TIme Makes

Fourteen years ago my mom died, not fourteen years ago today granted, but close enough to today that it already weighs heavy on my mind this year. The memory of this amazingly powerful woman my son never got to meet, a woman who never got to see me grow into a woman. Remembering losing her is still, to this day a mind shattering event. She'd been sick my whole life, all ten little years of it, but it never once occurred to my innocent little child's mind that she could in an instant be gone. Until one day, she was.

It's funny the memories of the time that passed right after my mom died that stay strong in my mind. I remember vividly the panic I felt upon waking up at 6:45 in the morning, horrified I was going to be late to school for the first time ever. I remember crying, heart broken on the bathroom floor, not over my mom's death but over the realization that I would have to cut my hair because I had no idea how to brush the well over three feet of it on my own. I'd never needed to learn. I remember the teddy bear that Brittany and Chris's mom gave me, it's soft white fluffy fur and pink satin feet and how it smelled of Brittany's mom's perfume for months after wards.

I remember it raining almost all day the day she died, and I remembered my mom telling me when I was once afraid of rain and thunderstorms that the angels were crying while they were bowling. I remember thinking the angels shouldn't be crying now that they had my mom. I remember becoming very angry, at nothing in particular. I remember the day I decided that if there was a God and He could just take my mom from me like that, that I no longer wanted His help.

I remember years after she died, after the few good years I shared with my father were over when I got really mad at my dad. When I started to lash out at him in any way I could wanting for some reason I never understood to hurt him as badly as I hurt. I remember hating being such an awkward and confused girl, so awkward that I never really got to be a pretty girl though I could have. I never had a real date or any of those oh so special rights of passage for young girls. I remember wishing I knew things I just didn't and my dad trying desperately to teach me or find someone I'd trust enough to let them teach me. It only made me even more angry at him.

I remember the first time and probably the only time now that I really think about it, that I truly made my dad mad at me. I remember looking up at him from the floor rubbing the side of his face after he slapped me, the pain in his eyes and wanting to forgive him, to stop being angry then, but just not being able to. I remember never wanting to have children because of all the pain I was constantly causing my dad. I remember wanting to go to college and get out on my own but being too afraid to.

I remember thinking that the pain of losing my mom was the worst pain I could ever feel. Then my dad died. I don't remember a whole lot about the few weeks immediately after my dad died. I remember the floor in Mona's kitchen being oddly cold in the middle of the summer as I sat on it where I feel when I was told he was gone. I remember calling Joe a lot. I remember crying every time James hugged me the rest of the summer. I remember wishing I had never been angry at my dad. I remember wondering if he really knew just how much I loved him.

I remember crying when I saw Cheez Whiz at the grocery store. I remember having some of the best conversations I have ever had with momma Laura. I remember thinking how sad it was that my son would never get to hear my dad's stories, he told the greatest stories.

Next month will make a year since my dad died, May 13. April 24 makes fourteen years since I last saw my mom. It feels strange being as young as I am and having both my parents gone, I thought maybe in time the lost feeling would go away, but it doesn't really.

I still find myself wanting to call my dad for advice on how to discipline and teach my son, and getting sad that I can't. I still haven't deleted his old number out of my phone. I just want to get over this sad lost little girl feeling I have all the time, but I just can't shake it. I can push it aside when I keep busy but the moment I slow down it creeps up on me leaving me wondering, if time is supposed to heal all wounds why isn't it working.