When will I be strong enough?
Posted by Cassandra | Filed under The Real World
This is the time of year when I take stock of my life, the people in it, my achievements, my failures, my responsibilities, and try to make some sense of where I’m going. Many people do this at New Year’s, but because of my mom, I do it during the month of May.
In 2004, that month was so turbulent, so difficult, so life-changing, it still affects me now, five years later. Well, it will be five years on Saturday, May 30.
In a lot of ways, I still haven’t really dealt with her death. I’m not even sure what that means, and for all I know I’ve done everything I should have done, but I still cry, I still shake, I still get angry and sad. I still miss her with every fibre of my being and wonder how my life – all our lives – would be different if she was still alive and well today. Although these things lessen or change somehow each year, I’m certain I will experience them in one form another for the rest of my life.
And it’s also at times like these, when I’ve made and will be making big decisions, and when I reach huge landmarks in my life, that I long for her so I can ask her advice, get her opinion. I wouldn’t genuinely ask anyone else if I was doing the right things, but I know I would ask her.
Was leaving my relationship the best thing for me to do? Was leaving the city I love living in to move back home the best thing for me to do?
Are you proud of me? Everyone says you are, but I’d love to hear it straight from you. Am I the person you thought I’d be when I grew up? Would you do my hair and then cry tears of joy at my commencement ceremony next week?
Would you make me feel like the luckiest, most special girl in the whole world like you used to?
What’s it like where you are? Are you anywhere? Can you even hear me…?
If she was alive, she would probably tell me whatever path I think is the best for me to take is the right one, and I might actually believe her when I can’t even believe myself right now.
And although my heart still hurts, and although my emotions and tears sometimes come rushing back like floodwaters at the mere mention of her, I finally agreed to organize something on her Death Day. (I know most people aren’t comfortable with the word Death, but I am and I can’t think of anything else to call it anyway.)
Every year, my aunt has asked me if I wanted to do something on my mom’s Death Day. Every year I said, “No thanks.” Every year, I let the day pass almost like any other for me, and for everyone else. Just more sad. I think was always afraid whatever we did wouldn’t be special enough and it would somehow be my fault.
I also wasn’t ready to step into her shoes as the centre of the family. I’m still not, but no one else has either. My aunt has taken care of a lot of things my mom used to do, both for my brother and me and other members of our family, but she’s only part of our family by marriage, not blood. I don’t love her any less for it, but I don’t think it would be possible for her to unite our family the way my mom did. Nor do I think she wants to.
This week I finally realized that to truly celebrate my mom and everything she meant to all of us, it doesn’t matter what we do, but rather that we all get together and have a good time. Getting together with family and friends, and just enjoying life together, is what meant the most to her in her life. She often spent her last dime just having fun with us, or her friends and extended family. She loved catching up with everyone and she made everyone feel like they were special because she was having the best time with them.
So, we’re going bowling on Saturday. I wanted to go to bingo (I can’t even tell you how much she loved bingo), but my brother isn’t 18 yet, so we’ll have to go next year. She loved bowling too. A bunch of us are going out for dinner and then to the bowling alley, and I’ll make other plans for Monday with the one important person who can’t make it.
I really hope that if she is somewhere, she smiles and says, “Finally!”
I truly am sorry it took this long, Mom. We love you so much and miss your smile, your laugh, your hugs, your heart, your everything every single day.
Tags: Mom, motherless daughter
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June 8th, 2009 at 1:13 pm
Cassandra, you sound pretty strong to me!
This is really well written.
June 14th, 2009 at 11:36 pm
I read this a few days ago and meant to comment. It made me bawl my eyes out. my heart goes out to you Cassandra.. I know your mom is smiling down on you from above…
xo Lisa
August 24th, 2009 at 11:33 am
Thank you for writing this is all I can say. xxx