My days are numbered.
This is day #14,735 for me. On day #14,741, I'll be going to Vermont again. Yay! But I have a lot to accomplish before then.
Day #13640 was the worst day of my life. It was three years ago today, and my mom died. Today was hard to get through, because I can't stop thinking about Mom, yet I want to be looking ahead instead. The wallowing in grief won out over anything productive, but at least I am writing about it. Maybe it will be therapeutic... though my therapist wouldn't be happy to know she's been replaced with a blog. (You haven't, Doctor ... really!)
Thinking about what I "should" be doing or what I "could" be doing really just adds to my misery. Then I feel guilt on top of my grief which already sits upon me like a wet blanket. The guilt makes me feel like the dogs laid on that blanket and drooled all over it. It's worse than the grief itself.
I sit here and think, "I shouldn't be this way! It's so selfish of me to want to see Mom again, to wish she had lived, to wish she was still here." Selfish because I know she was suffering at the end... but what's so selfish about wanting my mother? As a mom, I want my kids to want me around. My mom would want to be around. Well, at least around my kids. She doted over every grandchild that she had. The best thing I did for my mom was contribute to her grandmotherhood! I have to console myself with knowing she is watching over them, taking care of them in her own way now.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm trying not to let my life tick away, day by day, without doing something meaningful. I know weeding my flowerbed isn't likely to win me a Nobel prize, but it means my neighbors don't have to cringe when they pass our house. It doesn't mean I have to write a Newbery winner each day. (Though, one day I would like to... any day!) There are a thousand little contributions that I can make to my family, friends and work that will make someone's day or make someone's life easier. If I don't wallow, if I don't sink myself in the pit of "What good am I?" or the abyss of "I can't do it", maybe those little things will add up. Wallowing isn't meaningful or productive. Still, days like today, #14,735, make that pit feel a little cozy. I could get used to being stuck down here.
Wait. Day #14,736 is right around the corner. Tick, tick, tick.
Today I'll wallow. I wrote this blog, so I was a little productive. Maybe I'll pack something. Mom would want me to. Heck, Mom would be packed and ready to go by this time. Ok, Mom, I'll pack. I can wallow productively, right?
Vermont, here I come.