Sunday, August 10, 2014

The woulda, coulda, shoulda Guilt

Im honestly scared that my Mom thought I didnt love her. I stopped talking to her regularly about six months before her suicide. There are many reasons why I came to that decision. All of which now dont seem like such a big deal. Hindsight is 20-20 right. I would change everything about how I reacted to her. I should have tried harder to help her, to take her threats more seriously. I should have listened better.
            But for me it was the samething over and over. She was the victim, she had the issue. It seemed like I was the parent to her more the she to Me. And yet I would take allof it back and more if I could have her back. My soul, my being, aches for my Mommy. She didnt say goodbye to me or my brother. I didnt get to see her physical body, as morbid as it is, when you dont see the body, denial is incredibly easy. It becomes what you stand on. It creates false hope. The day that it really and truly hits are no longer who you once were. And where do you start as an adult?! And who do you ask for advice if your Mom is gone?! Who do I ask about the girl shit i still need to know?!
                    Im ashamed at how I reacted. Im ashamed that I assumed she would always be there, and that I still had time to make up with her. I loved my Mom tremendously. She was smart (IQ 170), she was an artist. Not only could she paint and draw, she could also sew clothing like nobodys business. She had a great sense of humor. She gave great hugs.
I miss her hugs.
I wish she could communicate with me somehow.

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