Dear Mom,
As much as I love writing this blog, sometimes I wonder if it is doing more harm than good. It makes me think about you a lot more often, which is great, but along with that comes some very terrible memories of the years you were sick. I'm crying a lot more lately than I have in the past year or so. It might be because three years ago during this time I was watching you slowly start to die, and maybe I would be emotional right now regardless of if I had started writing or not.
One of my continuous setbacks from October to December is thinking back to what we were doing on any given day at a particular time in 2007. In October, I was being told I had to live a life without you; in November, I was frantically trying to imagine how I could possibly do that; and in December, I was suddenly forced to figure it out. These months are still so hard on me.
So I need to make a change. What I am going to try to do this year is exactly what I think you would want me to do: focus on the positive. I can't let those final three months control my life and how I remember you. Rather than thinking back to what we were doing and how we were feeling on November 4, 2007, I'm going to push myself to recall happier times from years prior.
Let's go back to 1997. Today, I was 9, and we were probably at Diane's house getting me and Brittany ready to perform during halftime at the high school football game with our All-Star cheering team. This was the only time I actually got to wear make-up, so it was a pretty big deal, as you can imagine. You always insisted on curling my bangs, and curl them you did- right into the skin on my forehead. Nine times out of 10 I cheered with a burn mark on my head, but the show must go on! You were always in the front row, cheering me on, and never missed a game. I was one lucky little girl.
Although there are still a lot of difficult moments left to write about, there's no rush. My future posts this month will be more positive; I owe it to you-- and myself.
I love you,
Sami
It takes a lot of courage Samantha to make a conscious decision to change your thinking. Your Mum will certainly be smiling down on you. Just as you could see her right there with you, including burns on your forehead, I believe she still wants nothing more than for you to find peace in your heart.
ReplyDeleteBless you
Sami, I think the fact that you want to try to look more for happy memories is a real sign of healing. I still think about the last months when my mother was really sick too - three years ago as well. My holidays will forever be a little "tainted." I do definitely think more of happy times and good memories now and I believe you will be able to do that eventually as well. I wish for you continued healing and more happy memories in days to come.
ReplyDeleteOh Sami - I just clicked on the comment you left on my blog and am so happy (yet sad) to have found you. My kids were only young (7 and 5) when my husband passed away 8 months ago. I struggle to figure out how they are feeling at times and I know their feelings will wax and wane over time .... so it's heartening to see your beautifully-written portrait of a grieving daughter. I shall bookmark your blog and follow along as you journey through your grief.
ReplyDeleteThank you all. If my mom could respond to this one, she would say, "Samantha Ann! (do all parents use their child's full name when they're in trouble?!) You know you really moved into the curling iron and THAT'S why you got burned!" Haha. Although, I still think I flinched AFTER it happened ;-)
ReplyDeleteHere's to many happy, more positive days for us all xo