I listen to the dogs bark outside. Desperately trying to come back inside the house. They're traumatized. They were outside for way too long the day my mom got sick. It's only been about three weeks since my mom went into the hospital. But I suspect in the dog universe that's a long time. Three weeks tomorrow . . . Yesterday was a week since the funeral and Thursday is two weeks since her death.
In recent years I've been trying to figure out how to prepare myself for the death of my grandparents. Never did it cross my mind that the death I'd be dealing with would be my Mom's. I miss her so much. I spoke with her nearly every day, even at age 28.
Right now, I'm sitting in her chair. My Dad went back to work today. And I'm sitting in her chair trying to figure out how to make myself get up, pack myself up, and head back to Spearfish. I have to go back today. I have a final tomorrow and business to take care of. It's like I'm scared to leave my parent's house.
Right now, the hardest thing, besides missing her so fucking much, is seeing all of the advertisements for Mother's Day. . .
The weirdest thing about this whole situation is that while my world stopped, reality kept on chugging. I haven't worked for three weeks. I'm a college student. I can't afford to not work for, well for any amount of time. I'm stressed. I'm lonely. I want to call my mom and ask her what to do, but I can't . . . I can't ever call my mom again. That is so painful. I want to give up. I want to throw in the towel and just be done with everything. But, I know that's just stupid.
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