Eternal Pain of Episodic Memories- Volume One: September 27th, 2011

 

September 27th, 2021: Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of my mom’s death. I’ll never forget that feeling of despair when I heard the news. I was driving to the hospital to see her knowing it was probably the last time. I didn't make it.  I’ll never forget that feeling of disbelief. I’ll never forget that feeling of hopelessness. I can’t  forget because I have felt and still feel those feelings in continuous waves over the past 10 years. 

Before she died, she fought so hard for 10 years to be healthy and normal again. She had so much to do in her life that she wanted to do that she never got to do.  She never got the opportunities that others did, she sacrificed so much to make sure my brother and I had the life we did. She wanted more for us in all facets that she never had. So she did what she could. She was never formally educated like she should have been. 1960s issues Vs Family values issues Vs trauma led her to never reach her potential as a young adult and she never got the chance to reach her potential as an older adult. 

I worried daily and nightly about losing her for 10 years before she finally succumbed to the evils of cancer, I prayed vigorously and looked for answers to dilemmas that made no sense to me, and I dreaded and couldn’t imagine life without my mom. It was exhausting for me, but I can’t fathom how horrifying it was for her. She was only 51 years old when she was first diagnosed, and her life would never be the same. She tried to have so much faith, and tried too many ways to overcome the entire ordeal.

Call me a mama’s boy. Call me too reliant on my mom but she was my go to on everything. She did too much for me. I asked her for help on everything. She never let me down. She understood me even when I thought she didn't. She got me, and my complex, weird ways. She knew my weaknesses and loved me more. I would let her down over and over but she loved me agape. We never had hard feelings. I could be mean. She could be mean, and then we got it out of our systems, and everything was fine. She always knew what to say/do to make things better or easier for me even when I didn't realize it at the time. 

She was so funny, charming, energetic, full of life, determined, confident, passionate, positive, ingenious, creative, crafty, artistic, inquisitive, and emotional. She was what I wish I could be in so many ways. She was so talented and skilled in so many areas that i'm not.  I thought I had more time to learn those skills from her. I didn’t. She often gave me hope when I had none. She often supplied my confidence for me when I had none. She believed in me. I was her hope for what she didn't accomplish, but she never put pressure on me, in fact, I probably needed more pressure put on me, but because of how she was raised she didn't want to do that to me. 

She inspired me always, and I took it all for granted. I just assumed she would always be there to solve my problems that I couldn’t figure out. I just assumed that she would always be there for me to talk to and vent about how I couldn’t figure something out, or I couldn’t make up my mind what to do. She was always patient with my indecisive and forgetful self, because she understood and knew me. She knew my heart and my intentions were always in the right place. She would listen to me out, and value my thoughts but also always interject her own strong opinion if she disagreed with me, but she wouldn’t disregard mine either. She helped me become everything who I am. 

I wish she was still around not just because I still selfishly need her but more importantly I wish she was around because she needed to/ wanted to live life. I reflect on her life and history and life often( almost everyday) She never got to live an inkling of the life she wanted. She almost always lived the life others dictated for her. From her childhood to death. She was the oldest of 7 kids which made her the second mother. Her entire childhood consisted of being a mom.  Her high school dreams were to get educated and travel the world which she never got to do at all. She had the grades, and the resume, but she didn't have the support from home, and it was the Sixties. 

She wanted to experience so many things in life that she put on the back-burner to help others do better in life( her siblings and parents, my father, my brother and I) Just as she was entering that stage in her life where it finally would be possible to do what she wanted to do, a rare inflammatory breast cancer intervened and took her away. 

10 years of pain and some hope and too much despair later, cancer beat the life out of her on September 26, 2011. The last time I spoke to her was September 21, 2011. I remember I was really tired and not my normal talkative self but I called her and asked her how she was doing. She told me she was getting chemo the next day, and I was worried about how she would react to it because she was so weak at the time 

She took a dose of Chemo on September 22nd, 2011 because her second grand baby was due on September 24, and she wanted to feel better one last time to see him, hold him and experience the beauty of life one more time. September 22nd, 2011 was the last time she was conscious. September 24, Oliver Empsall would be born. She never got to see him. He never knew her. September 26, 2011, she died exactly how she didn't want to die, but that is for another blog post someday. 

Meanwhile, I want to build a better me, and stop exhibiting the worst qualities of myself.  I know I cause pain unintentionally sometimes but I have to be conscious of it. I have to crack the code of aloofness. I can’t blame my grief and depression and the trauma from it for forever. I want to live the life I always wanted.