I apologize in advance to those who are reading who have angels - this post is quite likely to piss you off. If you read it, please do so with my headspace in mind. My anger is not directed at you in the slightest.
One year ago, I made this post . It was my first one here, and I'm not sure what to make of that. I plan on re-reading my entire blog today, but I'm pretty sure it's going to leave me sobbing. Just reading the first post made my eyes well up.
One year, and so much has changed...and yet, most days, it doesn't feel like anything has changed.
One year, and the anger has finally arrived. I almost yelled at my father on Valentine's Day, when he came up to put flowers on mom's grave site. He picked them out and on the way out of the store he said "She'll like these". I almost responded with "Really? Do you really think she will? Do you think she has nothing better to do with her time than sit around on a fluffy white cloud and stare at her fucking grave, pining over flowers? Do you really think she gives a flying fuck what we do down here? She's DEAD! I'm pretty sure she doesn't care. Do you HONESTLY believe she cares??" I actually said this to Aaron, while dad was getting water. He said that yes, dad does actually believe this. And I thought "how sad"...and that made me realize just how angry I'm getting. If it makes him happy, if it makes it easier for him, what do I care? If it eases his pain to think she's right there beside him at the grave, so what? I know I'm just angry, because I can't believe that. I know she's in Heaven, but beyond that I know nothing and knowledge makes me happy. I'm too logical, too practical, to accept that she's on a cloud looking down at us. I don't believe in the wings and harps theory. I can't.
One year ago, I knew my mother would be dead before the end of the year. Yet...nothing in my dreams could have prepared me for the end. It was both better and worse than I could have imagined.
One year, and I've only written 20 posts. I suck. Thanks for sticking around for the last year, through all the sporadic ranting, raving, and hysterics.