My last image of her in my mind keeps popping up. It’s driving me nuts. It was….not something I wish I had seen. I wish I had seen her like I wanted. I was just so tired and thought sleep would be okay. I thought she would have given me more time but I guess her body wasn’t waiting. I keep thinking about the blood that dripped from her nose and the giant tubes they put down her throat that caused her lips to swell up. It was so gross. I’ve never seen anyone like that before, ever.
I feel like part of me wants to delete the Call Mom reminders and delete Uncle Mark out of my phone. I can’t call either of them. I feel like “Why would I want to delete Mom’s number of my phone? I can call her” though logically I know I can’t. Well, I probably could but Stepdad would just pick up her phone more than likely. I know I need to deal with it but I don’t know how. If I do it I’m gonna cry. I haven’t cried since last week. I’ll wait till I get home to delete those out of my phone and calendar.
Mark died before my wedding. He was the closest thing to a Father figure I had in years. I miss his voice and wisdom. I don’t have any reminders but pictures, e-mails and memories which of course fade with time (maybe not the e-mails or pictures).
Stepdad’s putting in a gravestone/tombstone/grave marker. I don’t even know what it’s called. He’s gonna let us know when it’s in so we can go and look. He’s gonna put a Q2 code on it so people can scan it and go straight to her find-a-grave memorial page which I think is fabulous. She’d probably look at us like we’re nuts about it. I’m not sure if she ever tried using one of those or not. It’s cool. Instant way to get to her find-a-grave page instead of having to search her; I like that a lot for some reason.
I saw her open casket which creeped me out and freaked me out when I saw it. I think that’s why I wasn’t sad at the funeral. I was glad it was over. I was glad none of us had to wait anymore. I’m just sad she had to died like that instead of in her sleep or be more comfortable. It’s disgusting and terrible what happened. I wish he had properly wrapped her in the burial shroud and had her face covered or made it able to be covered. I know we, in the West, don’t have to do it but if you’re gonna do it, do it right. None of us said anything since we didn’t want to make things any harder or uncomfortable. I just don’t get how people could sit in that parlor room with her body. It was a body, a piece of meat as my Sister said. She wasn’t there anymore. My wonderful brilliant, radiant Mother was gone…and all that was left was this deteriorated greying body. It wasn’t enough. I guess it’s never enough.
I keep dreaming about her all the time. It makes her feel alive and I wish I could do something so it’d go away, that feeling that she’s there and I can call her any time I want. I mean I know like….she’s with God but she feels so far away. I don’t remember what her skin feels like anymore.
Have work to do. Can’t do this while at work and writing isn’t helping.