Weapons of Class Destruction

Yeah, so yesterday marked the second anniversary of my mother's passing and, while I have been in an introspective mood, I'm not quite sure what I'm thinking this year.

It's quite obvious that things have moved on for me since last year. I'm living in a new place, so the visual memories or triggers for memories aren't there; I've worked out a lot fo problems I had had; I have whole new set of problems to work on.

So, does it mean I've "moved on"? (A ridiculous term, to be sure, but not as genuinely insipid as "closure.") I still miss her that badly; I still cry at anything that reminds me of her; I still, only very ocassionally, though, have dreams in which I talk to her, tell her that I wish she had been a round to see the last Star Wars movie, or watch Monk with a new assistant. That scheme's kind of replaced the earlier one where I'd dream that I was just with her and one of us would realize that she shouldn't or couldn't be.

On the other hand, I'm cautious of saying that I'm "over it." A very good and very wise friend of mine told me soon after my mom's passing that, no matter what age you are, it's always gonna be one of the most devastating things that happens to you and you're always going to want your mummy back. And that's true. Very true, as a matter of fact! But I've also realized that, no matter how close we had gotten, no matter how much she had learned to take care of me, to talk to me when my illness was getting the better of me, to, metaphorically and literally, pick me up off the floor when I was having a breakdown and bring me back to reality, I've learned that there is life without her. So, I miss her until my heart feels like it's going to burst, I do still need her and would do almost anything to have her back again, but, you know, I'm really okay now without her.

My biggest regret is that she never got to live a life after my father, never got to wake up without knowing that frustration of having to deal with him in latter years. Little did we all know that he had emphysema and would only outlive her for three months.

I love ya, mom. In your last couple of years, you were my guiding light, my shining star. We were closer than we had ever been and I had ever dreamed we would be. I wish you were here with me now but maybe I'll see you again someday. Until then, I hope you're somewhere watching Law & Order with Elvis and drinin' a big ol' cup of coffee!

Peace, Ghani