It’s April. My mom died in April, on 4/20, which was just one of a million things that proves my mom had the best sense of humor. She never tried weed, and in those final days she vocalized big and little regrets about her life sporadically. She told the nurses, “But I never even got to try pot,” and we all laughed because we had no idea what was coming.
What’s not funny is that this year is going to be the FIFTH anniversary. I’ve been feeling the heaviness of it since just before the holidays, “Five YEARS, how has it been F.I.V.E. BLOODY YEARS?!” It is surreal to think of how far I’m getting away from her being alive. Words fail me when I think of Mom. Simply put, I miss her.
I could talk about and post about my dead mom daily, and at times I have, but I hold back because there are only a handful of people who loved her enough to hear about my grief as much as I want to express it. However, I feel like five years is a significant amount of time, so consider this your warning. I will let my dead mom flag wave here for a bit, then I’ll roll it back up for ya after the 20th.
I’ve learned a thing or two about grief. I’ve learned that I will never stop loving my mom, therefore, I will never stop grieving my mom.
Happy Dead Mom Month y’all.