Of all the things I didn’t anticipate about grief, I think the one that surprises me the most is how boring it is. I am so tired of being sad. I am so sad and tired. I have no new words to describe how much I miss my mom, but I still miss her achingly.
Really that’s all there is to say. I’m not sad every hour of every day any more, but I am sad every day. And I can’t see a time when that won’t be true… I miss my mom in so many tangible little ways, so many half-seconds when I want to tell her something or share something with her, and I can’t imagine that going away. Does it? Maybe it does, who knows?
What I do know is that I’m struggling to reach out about my sadness because there is no new information. Today, for example, I have been sad all afternoon because my brother brought us saucisson from France, and the smell reminded me of a family lunch last year when my mom was grabbing some before the hordes descended. Just for a split-second I thought, oh! We should save her some for when she… and before the thought ended I remembered.
The seasons are changing. It’s warming up, the days are lengthening, the air is softening… so lovely. So inexplicably sad for the seasons to change and my mom to still be gone. I can see that next spring will be easier because it won’t be the first. Next everything will be easier because it’s not the first. For now, all I have is this deep aching missing. I miss my mom.