Monday, March 4, 2013

Void


It's hard to believe that this week will be two weeks since mom passed.  Her service was very special and memorable. My sister, I and our husbands planned every aspect of it. We wanted it to be personal and from the heart. Mom looked so beautiful in her trademark red shirt with red roses all around her.

The cremation was private because we wanted it to be. It has always been the three of us for most of our lives and it was only fitting we were with her physical body before we said goodbye forever. So, we both said goodbye, tucked our letters into her hands along with roses and witnessed as she was carried into the chamber. My sister pushed the button; I felt that she needed to. It's strange, it was the first time I actually cried in front of mom...as the casket closed...for one last time. It felt like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it.

Since that day, everywhere I turn, I see and feel the massive void. I now have all this time on my hands and it feels so foreign. Mom was apart of my daily life and when she got diagnosed last May, the time we spent together was significant. There was not a day that went by that I did not see her. It's strange not to be running to appointments....or going to hospitals for various tests and treatments...or researching treatments and medications. Last week I actually used my lunch break for lunch in the office -- that was so bizarre cause I haven't done that in nine months.

As for me, I'm doing ok, I guess. I have a lot of support from friends, family and co-workers. But, it's still extremely hard. I find it hard just calling people to talk...but I am so appreciative when they call to check up on me. That means the world to me.

I find myself breaking down when no one is around me and some nights I just can't sleep at all cause too many thoughts of her last few weeks flood my mind. There's so much that I saw these last nine months that I sugar-coated on this blog...that unless you've been here, you cannot begin to comprehend. There were some very dark days where the pain and suffering was just too much to bare. Eventually I might talk about some of those days because it is important to know the full story from a caregiver point of view. It might actually help someone else out there. It is because of all that pain and suffering, that I am sort of OK with her being gone. She no longer has to go through all that.

I've been asked by quite a few people if I will continue to write on this blog. I've decided that I will continue. It will not be as frequent but this story is not done yet...

5 comments:

  1. My sincere condolences Lorita, to you and your family. It was a very difficult road and you stayed true. May peace and the knowledge of your love for one another fill the void and the sadness. Keep writing. Love, Alice

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  2. I'm continuing to think and pray for you. I lost my mom in 11/11 and it was so excrusiating and horrifying. I know what you mean when you say unless you have been there, you can't understand.

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  3. Sending you a Wonder Woman hug via Montreal. You captured so many vivid moments as a loving daughter and we cheered you on continually for your mom and you. We felt each triumph, sorrow, and joy at each step. I can't help but feel selfish for wanting you to continue this next step of your journey. Know that my husband and I wish you every little happiness in the world - you deserve only this and more. As we continue our own journey, we light a candle in honour of both you and your beautiful mom.

    Thank you PK and GD

    PS remember to breathe, just breathe and now exhale xxxoo

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