Visiting my mom isn’t going to a rehab facility or going to Smilow Cancer Hospital. It’s not going over her house. It’s not taking her to a doctor appointment.
Now, visiting her is at a grave.
It’s talking to the dirt and crying uncontrollably because I would give up anything to take her to just one more doctor appointment or visit her just one more time at Smilow Cancer Hospital. Even though it was exhausting, mentally and physically, I would give anything to just take care of her for a couple more days. I would do anything to have those moments back – to feed her, lift her drink up so she could take a sip, to help her change her clothes, to help her go to the bathroom, to talk with her and cry with her, to not sleep more than 3 hours a night.
People keep telling me you can still talk to her and she’s still here. But, I wish people would stop saying that because I know I can still talk to her – but it’s not the same. She doesn’t talk back. She doesn’t tell me when I’m being a bitch. She doesn’t tell me that it will be okay. She doesn’t tell me that those pair of shoes look better than the other ones or that my necklace is too bulky for that outfit.
Mom and I had such a strong bond. And I’m sure my dad felt as if we ganged up on him quite a bit, but that comes with the territory of being the only man in the house. Once a week mom and I would play tricks on him. We would stuff his dress shoes with toilet paper so when he woke up and tried to put his shoes on at 4:45 in the morning, he struggled. And when he got home from work, we’d laugh. That never did get old. It got him every time. Too easy.
A couple weeks ago, when mom was still with us Dad told me stories about him and mom. One of them being that mom stood him up A LOT during their dating days. Or, when mom got my dad a watch, and to be sentimental, engraved it with his name, except, after a year of dating she still didn’t know how to spell his name right. So she gave it to him, engraved with ALAN. Not right mom, not right.
Or, when dad tried to propose and they sat down for dinner and without saying anything mom said “Allen I know you have something for me. You have something in your pocket, I know it. Aren’t you going to ask me something?” Nothing could be a surprise with mom – and that is when I realized I really am my mother’s daughter. So, when Stephen proposed, I did the same thing. I begged and pleaded for him to give me the ring. I told him “I know you have it. Just do it. Ask me. Do it. Do It.” And, he did do it and we planned a wedding in 22 days, so that my mom’s dream of seeing me marry the man of my dreams come true, and so that our dream of having my mom there would be possible. That’s one week I remember more than any other week. The week that we sat on the couch and planned our wedding.
So, at the perfect timing, we received our wedding video yesterday. And last night, my husband and I sat down and watched the two hour film. I couldn’t wait to see my mom. I couldn’t wait to see her talk, laugh and cry. But, for some reason I find this totally crazy. Because seeing her would obvious make me upset, emotional and angry. And, I know our wedding film is supposed to be about us and be such an amazing thing to look back at. But, right now, for me it’s not. Right now for me it hits too close to home and as I cried my way through the video at every single shot of my mom; I was right back to the beginning of my grieving.
As I watched her in one scene of the video, I left the room, and it was the first time I heard what she said when I wasn’t there. She said, “Allen, she looks absolutely beautiful. So beautiful. I can’t even believe it.” And that hurt even more. I know one day I will look back at our wedding video and watch it with amazement and also watch it with a huge smile on my face, not just because it was the best day of my life, but because I can see my mom. I can watch her and hear her. I can be back in that moment with her.