Ten Years / 29 Days / 1 Year

It’s been two days shy of a month.  The days and weeks since the beginning of February are blended together; most of the time I’m not sure what day it is, and barely what month.  The time has both flown by and dragged.  My oldest daughter turned ten yesterday, and it was bittersweet.  The tenth anniversary of the day I became a mother, and the first of those anniversaries without my own mother by my side.
The song Lightening Crashes by Live was on the radio yesterday afternoon.  I have always felt the lyrics to be powerful:

Lightning crashes a new mother cries
Her placenta falls to the floor
The angel opens her eyes
The confusion sets in
Before the doctor can even close the door

Lightning crashes an old mother dies
Her intentions fall to the floor
The angel closes her eyes
The confusion that was hers
Belongs now to the baby down the hall

The song always brings me close to tears; yesterday it took me all the way to tears.
Ten years ago, I became a mom, and my mom became a grandma.  I never imagined being here now without her.

The pain is fading, somewhat.  Or maybe I’m hiding it; I’m a little worried about that.  There are moments when the realization that there are things I will never be able to talk to her about hits so hard that it feels like my heart is tearing open.  In those moments, I push the feelings down, bury them, because the world keeps turning.  I feel like I can’t bear to face them without breaking down.  That worries me, knowing that it will probably build to a breaking point, but I don’t know how to face those feelings.  I can’t conjure them up on demand when I am alone and have time to deal with them, and when they happen, I rarely have time to deal with them.  I have kids and a job and a house and responsibilities.

I talk to the girls about her often.  We stopped at the cemetery last night to be sure her solar lantern was working.  V showed grandma her new glasses, well, she held them up to the sky because that’s where grandma is.  She waves to the sky too.  Before we left she kissed her hand and put it on the still too fresh dirt on her grave, leaving a kiss for grandma.

I had to take V to the doctor last week because she kept saying that her heart hurt.  After some examination and conversation, the doctor determined that she is probably physically feeling her grief and stress.  She talked to V about expressing grief, crying, and remembering good things about Grandma.  The whole thing broke my heart even more – my tiny baby is so stressed that she is physically feeling pain.  She shouldn’t have to go through that.  Her heart has only hurt a couple of times since then though.

The doctor said that it took her three years to be ok after her father died.  Three years is a long time.  It seems like forever right now.