Today marks the day my mom died five years ago. I hate this day. Everything about it. No, actually I hate this week. I hate remembering when my alarm goes off at 6am like it does everyday that my brother had only told me ten minutes before on that day and at this point in time I was on the bathroom floor saying 'this isn't supposed to happen to ME'. I hate that I had to be the one to tell my little sister. I hate remembering the look of devastation on her face and knowing that I did that. I hate that when I picked my brother up at the airport that evening it had been over a year since I had seen him last and this couldn't even be a happy welcoming. For the next five days I was in a fog. If felt like everyone around me was bustling around to make sure everything worked out, from rental cars to funeral plans to cremation arrangements, all the while I had to remember to breathe. All I could think was that I never got to come visit her in her new home, she only met my first daughter three times and I want more kids, and the last time I saw her we were late for our flights because she lost her ID and I was so mad at her that I barely said goodbye. I was scared to death to ask the details of how she died, and couldn't decide if I wanted to see her before they cremated her. My 23rd birthday was the day before her funeral. You can imagine everyone's efforts to try and make that a good day. To really understand, you would have to know my mom. She always made our birthday's seem like national holidays. Even when we were barely scraping by, she made it a day to remember. So, there is my brother and sister, husband and new step-father I had only met once before wondering what to do to try and make this day a little less macabre. With few options, they decided to take me out on the town. My mom lived in Vegas. The first time I got to see Las Vegas was the day before I would say goodbye to my best friend and mother forever. I never want to see that city again. It's not because I had a bad time, it was actually fun to spend that time with my brother and sister together and to just let go, but I don't think I can ever go back. That next day could never be described accurately with words. It was a pain I have never felt before. I couldn't even bring myself to see her again. I made it into the doorway and turned around.
Ever since I lost my mother it seems like her memory is fading. I used to be able to hear her voice so clearly in my head, I could see her hands and smell her morning breath. As time goes by, these are starting to go away and it kills me. If I believed in a higher power such as god, I would hate him/her/it for what it took from me. I don't believe that I will have the chance to see her again someday, so I don't even have that false hope that others can cling to. My mother was the person that gave me strength. I know more than anyone that she had her faults and her issues that would make her appear less than worthy to be held so high by me, but in my mind, that made her someone to admire and look up to. She was an amazing mother who loved her kids more than the air she breathed. There wasn't a thing she wouldn't do for us. She had a personality and a sense of humor that I have never witnessed before or since her. She was dealt a lot of bad hands in life and she somehow knew how to keep her chin up and not let it knock her down. That's a quality I wish I had more time to learn from her. She was the one I would call on a bad day and spill everything in her lap, no matter how petty, and she would make it seem like small bananas. I loved her for that, and I find myself needing that even more as time goes on.
Today was a perfect day. The kind of day that was my mom's favorite. It was sunny with blue skies and a slight breeze. Warm in the sun, and cool in the shade. I was born on that exact kind of day and as her and my dad walked into the hospital she stopped and looked around and said to my dad, "isn't this the most perfect day to have a baby?". Yes, today was perfect.I only wish she could have seen it.