A month has passed since your funeral, and you’ve been gone for almost two month. Some days, which are most days, are still so surreal and hard. I am waiting to wake up from this horrible dream, but I won’t and you are gone. I know you are always with me, you continue to live within my heart, and yet it is not the same as nothing replaces you physically being here. To hear you talk, to laugh with you, just seeing you be. Days are tough but the nights are the worst. When the hectic from the day returns to silence and the grief finds a way to be felt louder. I just can’t believe you are gone, that we never talk again. Some days I am angry at you for leaving like this, without anything. You knew and yet you took your secret with you, without saying anything, no word for me, or the ones left behind to mourn and miss you so much. And yet I understand and I know you could have not let go otherwise. I truly hope that you are at peace. I can’t say that I am yet and most days start with tears and end with tears. Not counting the hours in between where memories sneak in and remind me. I sorted more of your paperwork and last things from the nursing home. The things that were with you last, that witnessed the energy of your life dwindle away. It’s hard and it never goes without heartbreak to touch those things.
Monday was extra emotional for me and I didn’t put it together at first. I kept busy for part of the day, but soon realized that after my errands, I was looking for ways to distract myself. I was treating myself with a new lipstick. I bought the same one last year and it quickly became a favorite, until I lost it once I returned to the states. It’s a miracle I found the same one again, but it soon had me tears as I walked out of the store.I knew all too well that I was placing a bandaid onto what really was going on, that I was trying to lift my spirits. I was running from the memories, and my feelings. I know it’s no solution, but sometimes I feel I have to. Sometimes I feel that the sadness is physically manifesting inside of me and there are a few reasons as to why I say this. In any case, I did my best while I suddenly remembered that it was a month since your funeral.
I have nearly one month left here in Germany, and much still needs handling. It’s been a crash course in all sorts of things and it’s amazing how much you learn in a short time. What needs to be taken care of and handled, and what might not get done in time.
I have a court appointment on Wednesday about the inheritance, getting the house into my name and so forth. I need to be identified as next of kin and the only one. I arranged to get a copy of my birth record. It looks different then my birth certificate which is in the States, and I found out what time I was born. I have always wondered, but Mom never really remembered the exact time. It was 7:45 AM, July 20th, at home, in a little village called Marktbergel is when I saw my first light. I cried as I saw it, with a different meaning I never thought of before. In the past I was curious about the time for astrology reasons, but now I was thinking that it was “that moment” when our story began. The story of Mom and me, when she gave birth to me and I became her daughter in the physical world.