My Mother in Williamsburg '82. This is how I remember her, that big goofy smile - I can almost hear her laughter.
I've realized too, that I make that same goofy face. I can't even express how much I miss her.
December 17, 2008. Six years ago today, I lost my best friend, my mother and a huge part of myself. I remember getting a call from the hospital early in the morning, on the only night that I actually went home to try and sleep, they told me that there was a change in my mothers condition, that I should immediately come to the hospital. They could not share the details with me, and could not reach my stepfather who was working at the time. I called my brother and we rushed to the hospital, it must have been about five in the morning. I remember it all like a blur, my brother and I got into the elevator to head up to her room and my phone rang, "Hello?", it was my stepfather, "Hayley... She's. Gone." I looked at my brother and he just knew. The doors of the elevator closed as I let out a loud cry, and I collapsed. My brother held me and pulled me out of the elevator and I just sat there crying, shaking. I swear in that moment, a part of me just snapped - it died. I haven't been the same since. Two days after she slipped into a coma, she was gone. Up until then, we were talking about how she wanted to decorate for Christmas, the things she wanted to change in her life. She was doing better. I really had hope, then during the night her cancer spread almost tenfold and she was in a coma. The doctors were shocked, "I've never seen anything like this before". I knew then, she was going to pass on, but I never imagined how fast it could happen.
Needless to say, on this day, along with November 3, the day I lost my father the year before, I'm not myself. Unfortunately, these dates are a part of who I am. I don't believe I will ever truly recover from the weight that these days carry on my soul, my being. Every one in my family shares in my pain on these anniversaries. The last person, I devoted my life, and my heart to completely neglected to remember, even when he lived through these days with me. Apparently, these events had no effect on him, I was alone in my suffering. He once told me that two years was long enough, that I had to get over it. I can't believe I put up with that. How disrespectful. I need someone who is strong enough to help me through my continuous battle with grief. I need to be supported emotionally, not criticized. I need someone who understands suffering, someone caring. I need a safe place to share my emotions, rather than hide them. I know I'll find it.
