March 6

I had one of those mornings today, I woke up and said cheerily:

Fuck.

You know those mornings? Sure you do. There was no discernable reason for it. I had a nice weekend with John, his old friends, my old friends. We watched the Oscars and read our dog book together. Lovely right?

Then I, about 20 minutes ago, remembered that today is the one year anniversary of my mom’s stroke.

That should explain the glorious “fuck” of the morning.

I can remember it so very clearly. Sitting on the steps of the art institute, waiting for John to come around walking with me after I gave a tour. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warmer. My brother called to tell me that mom was out of back surgery and was fine.

Then the infamous 3AM phone call that morning. The next day at work, the unknowing, the confusion, the shock. I remember it so well. I remember the following week before I could go see her, John and I tried to have our “valentine’s day” on the 9th. I had just talked to mom on the phone for the first time. It was a sad dinner.

So what difference has a year made? Surprisingly little. For all of the work and trouble and sadness, its all still the same. Still so sad, still so frustrating, she is still where she was therapy-wise if not a little worse.

My brothers and I are still amazingly close, working together and making each other laugh. Our stepfather is still disgustingly remote, coming to see his wife every 3 months and dating a church lady on the side.

So we hope still for relief for her (2 root canals for her this week does not help this cause), we hope for relief for us. And what I hope for is believing again that its not all about death and loss, because for the past year it has been. I’ll be anxious to move on from this feeling soon.

Thank you to everyone who reads this, listens to me, asks me about mom, loves me or loves her or loves someone.

Thank you to John for being patient and kind and letting me be horrible. I will try to be more hopeful, for both of us.