They say writers gotta write. Most of the time when I think of something to write I’m driving in my car where I am master of my domain. I have control over what is said in this place and no one can impose their ideas onto my process.
Thinking about momma. She’s been gone 12 days and just saying that out loud brings awareness to the knot in my chest. In 12 days I don’t feel like I have made any progression , except to exist through the journey. How is it that I feel stuck in the moment? I keep recollecting different moments that lead up to March 8. I try and reason with my conscience that I did what I was told, even though I wanted to disobey. I couldn’t send her away to die alone and she didn’t want that either.
The moment when she asked me if I wanted her to die and I felt conflicted in saying No momma but it hurts to watch you suffer this way. I want you to live forever momma! It’s a hurtful thing to watch your mom cling to life while her body betrays her. Death is not a pretty sight either. Momma didn’t close her eyes and sleep her life away.
The sores on her feet that infected her bone gave her hellish nights filled with writhing about and moaning in pain. Her lack of appetite left her belly empty and she kept getting nauseous from the pain meds. She was too weak to get out of the bed so I had to roll her back and forth to remove the soiled diaper from underneath her and replace it, after cleaning her, with a new one. She would groan at every push and pull. The left leg that she broke never healed properly. That posed an even tougher challenge of not causing her more pain. SMH.
These past 12 days haven’t made it any realer. Seeing her corpse laying in the coffin didn’t make it no realer…Walking past her dark and empty room doesn’t make it any realer…in the past 12 days I don’t feel any different…and I can’t quite describe how I feel…feels more like a lack of feeling…but then again I feel this knot in my chest… and I know that it’s the water behind the dam…the dam already has some cracks. How many cracks will it take before the dam burst? How many heart breaks will it take before I really am numb? Can I choose to be numb? Does that really happen? How does it work? I don’t know. I don’t get it. Where am I in my grief? Can anyone tell me?