No mother should have to go to the cemetery on Mothers Day to see their child.
No grandmother should have to ask her grandson if he wants to go to the cemetery to lay down flowers where his mom's body is.
No child should have to feel different on Mothers Day because their mom died 28 months ago.
No sister should have to avert her eyes in the Mothers Day section of cards titled "To My Sister on Mothers Day" and have to use every last bit of strength, physical and emotional, to keep from having an all out fit, i.e. screaming, crying, cursing, throwing things and have it end with me wiping out ALL the Mothers Days from their perfect little setting in the card aisle, taunting me.
But we did.
Beya and papa went to the cemetery to see the cold, hard slab of stone with Trina's smiling face on top on it that marks where their oldest daughters body lies, deep within the ground, hoping upon hope that her spirit is someone else.
Asa asked mom to write a note saying simply "I love you mom. I miss you. Happy Mothers Day."
I managed to leave the card aisle intact. It was in my mind that my emotional landmine exploded causing every last card to burn and turn to ash.
And after doing all of these things, we did what sissy would have done.
We drank Bud Lite.
Beya and I drank Bud Lite, sissy's favorite beer. Sissy could go to any brew pub, order any microbrew, know the ins and outs of it, ask a stranger a few simple questions of what he liked and then she'd be able to tell him with 100% success rate what beer he'd like the best. But what beer did she drink at home?
Her runner up was Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Two of the cheapest, trashiest beers and those were her favorite.
So today Beya and I drank Bud Lite and PBR and would send our "cheers" towards the sky.
That is how we spent our third Mothers Day without sissy.
Never any easier, always a bit harder, pain neverceasing, love constantly there.
And now tonight, the children are in bed and all is quiet except for the frog ribbitting outside (not much longer, I'm thinking frog legs might be something the kids are old enough to try).
I hate moments like this. Moments where I am left alone with my thoughts, memories and feelings. Nothing to occupy to mind but what I don't want in there, all the fun, all the parties, all the laughter we had in the past and what we should be having now.
I try to avoid these moments because they are not just emotionally painful, they make my very body ache and I feel like at any second I will throw the computer all the way across the living room, drop to a fetal position and curl up as tight as I can get, curl up tight enough so that nothing can get past me. Use my body as a shield for CANCER and DEATH and GRIEF. Curl in to a position so tight that it cuts off my blood circulation. Cry so hard I don't make a sound. But no matter how tightly I have wound myself up, literally and figuratively, my worst enemy is always with me. My mind. My mind that holds all the memories. And my heart. My heart that I envision being shredded by a rabid tiger yet still doing it's job. I can still love my family but no matter what, my heart will never be whole and it will never be the same.
So that is why I have started to embrace my bipolar, anxiety, disassociative disorder and depression. Combined they cause my mind to become severely chaotic, leaving me trying to pick up bits and pieces of my life as I can, yet my mind is always going on to the next thing.
It sure as shit beats the quiet moments where all I have is an empty mind.