Some Thoughts from the First Week

In some ways it was easier than I thought it would be. Life does in fact go on, and quite normally really. The new normal as I decided to call it. I went to work, did my job, came home to my house, talked to my dad, went to bed - all things that normally happen, happened just the same as they always did. In a lot of ways it was easier than I thought it might be to be normal.

In other ways it wasn't. I drove to work wanting to call my mom the entire time. I wanted to write a post that she could read, or tell her a funny story, or hear a funny story from her to tell others, or just hear her answer the phone. I wanted the old normal back.

I didn't cry as much as I thought I might. I didn't feel angry at God, or angry at the world, or angry at all really. I laughed, a lot actually. I talked and told stories and didn't cry doing it. I played games, and ate dinners with people, and had fun doing it. Genuine fun, not make myself enjoy something fun.

I noticed everything in terms of what I was doing last week. And I noticed 8:15 on Thursday. I was driving to work, wishing I could call her. My baby sister turned 18 that day. And I sang her happy birthday while coworkers sat in the car with me. I don't really consider myself a good singer, but I didn't really care. And it made me thing of singing mom Amazing Grace while my aunt put lotion on her back. I didn't consider myself any better a singer last week, but she wanted that song and I didn't really care if I was a good singer then either.

I've stopped wanting to talk to people as much. Anyone who cares to hear the stories has heard them. Anyone who doesn't care to hear them generally won't look me in the eye when they see me. Not that it bothers me specifically, I can understand, I'm pretty sure I've done the same thing in the past. I probably won't in the future. Random chit chat just doesn't seem interesting and my stories about my mom are old news, so I find myself in a conversation just ready to be done the conversation. I find it interesting how some people feel really sorry for me and I really don't feel like they should, and other people seem to act like nothing happened or I shouldn't have any strange feelings at all, and I'm really feel like I should, and there are very few people in between those extremes. Hence, not really feeling like talking to people.

I find the cyclic nature of grief interesting. It makes me want to read about grief, and then I realize how clinical I'm being about it and try to convince myself that I need to experience it, not read about it. I'll probably still read about it. My mom would have laughed at me...and then bought me a book on grief.

I think about heaven a lot more than I ever did before. What's it like. What is she doing. Do you get to meet people like Job or Moses. I called my aunt to laugh that if mom met Jeremiah she may have told him that his book was awfully whiny (that was the last book she was reading in the 'Read through the Bible' and she told me she was tired of his whining...I told her I hated to let her know Lamentations was next and Jeremiah wrote that as well).

I seem to be wide awake at midnight when I'm supposed to be asleep and exhausted at 7am when I'm supposed to be awake for work. That may not be all that abnormal, but it is annoying. So with that I'll go lay down and read until I'm sleepy enough to fall asleep. And we'll see what the weekend brings.