As I go about my day, I have constant reminders of my mom.
When I brush my teeth, I think about the fact that she brushed using warm water, because the cold hurt her teeth. Or that she left the water running the ENTIRE time... full speed.
When I put on deodorant, I think of the fact that she wore roll on Ban deodorant my (and her) entire life.
When I eat my breakfast, I think of the sound of her stirring her chocolate milk.
When I put the boys in their carseats, I can hear her asking me to show her how they work, because she will "need to know how to do it"
I can hear comments that she made when I put on a shirt she liked, or wear my hair pulled up.
When I bathe the boys and smell the Johnson's shampoo, I think of her.
I can hear what she would have said when I see a certain pair of shoes, or things that the boys say.
I can touch things, see things, hear things, smell things, and think of her.
I'm not crazy. I'm not hearing voices. It's not all the time. And it's not always bad. Infact, it's usually pretty comforting to have those moments of her "living" with me.
But this morning I woke up, and I saw my house phone. And bad memories flooded me.
I saw that phone, and flashed to December 1st, when the boys were in the bath. It's the phone that I answered when Karri called me on her way to Mom and Dad's house to see if I had heard from mom. It's the phone I called Aunt Darla on, to tell her I thought something was wrong with my mom. It's the phone I called Clint and Mary on to tell them I thought they might have to take care of Aunt Darla. It's the phone that rang as James and I sat on our bed trying to figure out what to pack and when to leave and to try to cling to hope.
It's the phone that called to tell me my mom was gone.
I've thought about it all day.
I don't mind having the reminders of her "living" with me. What I don't need are the reminders of her dying. I think I've got that one covered.
I know you aren't supposed to shoot the messenger, but that phone has GOT to go.
Hugs Sara....There is so much to all your posts that I can relate to like it was yesterday for me.
ReplyDeleteOne of the hardest things for me was when we went through her things and her clothes still smelled like her. That right there almost gave me a string of hope she was still here even though I knew she wasn't.
Rhonda--I have a pair of gloves of hers that smell like her. They are comforting and upsetting at the same time.
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