And it came to me then, that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time. As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409. And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself that I’d already taken too much today. As each descending peak on the LCD took you a little farther away from me.. away from me. Amongst the vending machines and year old magazines, in a place where we only say goodbye. It sung like a violent wind that our memories depend, on a faulty camera in our minds. And I knew that you were truth I would rather loose, than to have never lain beside at all. And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself. Cause there’s no comfort in the waiting room.  Just nervous paces bracing for bad news.  And then the nurse comes round, and everyone lifts their head.  But I’m thinking of what Sarah said. That love is watching someone die. So, who’s gonna watch you die?

sooooo i wrote these back in january one was going to be for my “blog” and one was going to be for facebook lol

Today marks 6 months without my (or our, she had a way of making friends feel like family) girl Carolyn. It’s been full of uncertainty and doubt and the highest of highs and lowest of lows (both personally and temperature wise, I’m sick of my heat being on the fritz constantly) but all that matters is I’m still here and I’m still trying no matter how much I’ve wanted to give up. After mom’s first heart attack and we were finally allowed to go back and see her in her recovery room I told her that if anything worse happened to her it was going to be some Romeo and Juliet type of stuff happening in our family because I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I still don’t understand how or why things happened the way they did but every day I wake up to make her and my dad proud. It’s still taking time but I’m learning to be happy with my accomplishments even if it’s just getting out of bed and getting dressed or asking for help when I need it and not beating myself up over it. It’s going to take time (and probably some therapy whether it’s with a professional or retail therapy at Sephora 😉) but whatever it takes, I’m working on making myself the best version of me so Carolyn and Mike can look down and think things like “damn our daughter is tough as fucking nails and her nails look great while she does it” 💅🏼 I also can’t post anything and not give a shoutout to my aunts Helen, Marty, Dawn, and Neicy for being there, uncle Mike for his help and connections at the MVA and trusting me to make my own decisions on my own, my cousins for letting me annoy them constantly about my heat issues or makeup or when I’m depressed and just need someone to talk to, mom’s bank girls who are now my bank girls and are nice to me when I roll in without a deposit slip close to closing time which I heard from my mom is a big pet peeve (especially Kim and Susan who are always texting me to see how I’m doing 🤗) and thank you to my coworkers, friends, acquaintances who always ask how I’m doing when they see me, and of course a big thank you to my brother who always checks on me whether it’s by a call or text who also knew what a great person we had for a mother. I got really lucky to be born into the family I’m a part of. It’s full of love and cursing and loud laughter but mostly love.

6 months into my life without Carolyn and i thought it would have gotten a bit easier by now but it currently seems to be the opposite. Maybe it's because I'm on my fourth heat or furnace issue in the span of two months. Or because all I do is worry myself sick about money and bills and driving and providing a cat who your dearly departed mother loved sooooo much and provided her with the luxe life she has grown accustomed to in her 4 years of cat life. I've tried to describe my mom in words before; just listing adjectives but she deserves more than "sweet" and "caring" She deserves annoying run-on sentences filled with personal anecdotes and enough descriptors to describe Oprah's house. Carolyn didn't just belong to me or Matthew, yes she was our mother so if she were an investment we'd have the most shares of her, but she had a way of leaving herself with almost everyone she came in contact with. If she met or talked to a female, she'd affectionately yell "Hey, girl!" and give them her sweet little smile and joke with them as if she'd known them for years. And if she did know them for years, they could pick up and have a conversation even if they hadn't seen each other for months or years. I've only really felt comfortable enough to do that with one or two people. And it wasn't just women who she charmed, there were men. How could one person be so magnetic? How could she deal with the small talk that came from the bank customers? I can only deal with a few sentences about the weather before I'm rolling my eyes praying for an excuse to get away from customers. She was the kind of woman you'd want to be more like. She was the kind of woman you'd write a song about. Maybe not a love song, but a song for a good friend who was always happy despite any circumstance that came along, the kind of woman who would give you the shirt off her back even if she'd only met you a handful of times. I've said it before but being her daughter made me feel like the child of a celebrity. I wouldn't say I know how it feels to be one of Angelina Jolie's kids because I thankfully don't have paparazzi following my every move, but Carolyn was pretty popular and well known thanks to her careers in customer service so if someone saw me in the restaurant, I would get a "How's your mother? I just love her!" Like, me too, get in the fucking line.  I hope to be more like her one day. Maybe I'll finally conquer the art of small talk and kick some of this shyness to the curb to be able to joke with anyone. I don't see that happening anytime soon, but I have a lot of work to do on myself and I've got bigger fish to fry than shyness. Grief is a total bitch; each day is different, one day I'm fine and I don't get misty-eyed when I look at my mantle and see the portraits of my parents from the funeral home and don't complain about anything at all, one day I just want to stay home and have my mental breakdown that I'm convinced will cause the heart attack that I've been convinced is in my future since the day mom had her first heart attack (July 7, if you're curious) and ready to take a page from Britney's book and shave my head even though my dad made me self conscious about how big it is when i was about 9 years old (he didn't understand why I got so upset about it since he informed me that I got the big head from him) I was actually ready to get a dramatic hair cut back in November but the lack of self confidence kept me from my Adele-inspired wavy bob. But that self confidence thing is a whole different thing that I'm not ready to tackle yet. One that existed when both mom and dad were in the land of the living. I used to feel holier-than-thou when I'd see or hear someone reading a self-help book but look at me now: currently reading one and with a bunch more on my to-read list. And what about those people who say mantras daily? I'd judge them, too. But now I'm learning that it doesn't hurt to try. And that's why I'm blogging. Do I expect to reinvent the blogging world? No, not going to happen. But what if it makes me feel better? Maybe one day I'll find my perfect mantra. I'll keep you updated.