rope. tree. fan. spear. snake. wall.

Thursday, December 29, 2005

whatever that means...

Well, looks like I've made it through my first Christmas since Mom died. I'm not sure what Making It Through something actually entails, now that you mention it, but. Here I am on the other side of it, more or less intact. As alive, as sane, as whatever-I-am, as I was before.

I haven't wanted to write about her, about what happened, about how I feel now, because I can't seem to articulate it. I haven't talked about it either. But even though I haven't put it into words, I'm still thinking about her.

Every day.

Every minute.

4 comments:

Elemmaciltur said...

*hugz*

Thank you for your comment on my blog. So, I take it that by 'Über-Bayern' you're implying 'Oberbayern' and also Munich? And your saying that you hope to run into me at an SnB is implying that you're also a Toytowner and an SnBer??

cmhl said...

I'm sorry--- I would think that everything would be amplified at the holidays, when you are missing someone..

thinking of you..

KimberlyDi said...

It was difficult, wasn't it? We changed the location of our family Christmas get-together to try and deal with her loss. My SIL tried to fill Mom's shoes. I broke down when I found nail clippers in my Christmas stocking. It never failed... Mom always put nail clippers in everyones stocking. I have nail clippers everwhere in my house. Her absence was a raw wound that hurt again and again. It was healing to watch my two little nieces laugh and play. Alittle of her lives on in all of us.

{{{{{{{{{{alala}}}}}}}}}}

We'll make it.

vicki said...

alala- I'm reading back in your posts and I want to say two things: The first is that you write beautifully with a lovely wry wit and good spirit- it's a pleasure reading your posts. Just my opinion. Secondly, I'm sorry that you are missing your mother. 15 years later and I still miss my father keenly and wish he could see the children grow and my life unfold. For you, this is such a new and raw loss- I'm sorry. I hope that in the coming year more and more of your sorrow turns to good memories.