Postcards of Grief

Mourning is a process.

Comments on breast cancer by proxy, written by a woman coping with the loss of her mother.

Monday, August 02, 2004


I miss Mom so much lately. Everything makes me think of her. We're thinking of getting a new couch, and I wonder what Mom would suggest. We got the new shower curtain, towels, and rug in the mail the other day, and I wanted to call her to tell her about them. I realized that the bathroom saga started after she died, that we never got the guest room cleaned up enough to put guests in it, and that my vacation last summer was her last vacation ever. I see pictures of myself, and time is divided into Before Mom Got Sick and After Mom Got Sick. Anything between November and March is this free-floating sick time, the time I call "That was when Mom was." The sentence is never finished. Was dying. Was newly dead.

Now that we're cleaning up the guest room, buying a couch, choosing paint colors, actually decorating this house we own, I'm missing her more than ever. I just ache.


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