One Moment at a Time

I feel like I've accomplished a lot in the last few days. I find that I feel better when I'm taking care of things the my Mom left behind. Changing bills into my Dad's name, closing down my Mom's cell phone, etc. Sometimes I wonder if I'm annoying my Dad. I hope that he really does find it helpful. I guess I sort of feel impatient for all of it. I need for so many of these things to be done. And I don't really know why. I don't know if it will bring me closure. I don't know what I expect I guess. I just know that I feel better getting things done. And I hope I am helping. My Dad is back at work, and so busy. By the time he gets home, the last thing he wants to do is make these phone calls. At least that's what I think. We talk about it a little. But I worry that I am annoying him. Part of me feels this need to take care of my Dad, because my Mom did. That is not my responsibility. I know that.

As I write this, I see that I am worrying about everything. I guess I just feel like my Mom took care of all of us. So we have to figure out how to go on without her. I don't want to be the one who takes care of everyone, but I do want to be the one who takes care of my Mom. That sounds weird, because she's not here anymore, but she is in her things. And taking care of the things that were important to her feels like I'm taking care of what's left of my Mom.

I wish I knew or understood why I feel so anxious about my parent's home. I told my therapist today that part of me worries that I want to "erase" my Mom from the house. I know, rationally, that's not the case. I just feel like I can't more forward until there is a level of "new normal." And part of getting there, at least for me, is to be able to walk into my parent's house and not feel like time has stood still. I hate seeing piles of my Mom's things stacked because my Dad doesn't know what to do with it, or I don't know what to do with it.

                                                                     


In some ways, if feels like so much time has passed already, and then I look at the calendar and see that we are only three days away from the one month mark. It's almost been one month since my Mom died. And it's been one month and 5 days since my world was turned upside down. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her. I miss her every minute of every day. I don't cry everyday anymore, but I still cry more days than not. I wonder if I'll ever stop keeping track of time. I suspect not for some time. But for now, it's one moment at a time -- and as a family, I think we're doing okay. At least as okay as we can be.