It’s November

I know, what a boring post title especially after being MIA for quite awhile. Trust me when I say that I haven’t been away because I’ve had nothing to write about. The exact opposite is true, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to post anything for fear of sounding like a broken record or a whiner or whatever, and also because there is a lot going on that I can’t get into details about.

But, the fact that it is now November and therefore only 15 days away from the one year anniversary of my mom’s passing, is just too much to bear. Part of me wonders where this year went – it’s like I just floated through it, not really living or experiencing anything. The other part of me feels like last November was so long ago. How have I survived a year without my mom? I can’t help but think about all the things she’s missed out on – not even big things, just all the everyday ups and downs that I would have normally shared with her and talked to her about.

I’ve had a real crisis of faith this past year, especially the past few months. I was struggling for awhile, wondering why I couldn’t feel her around me, but I have noticed that I do feel her a bit more lately. It’s very subtle, but sometimes I do just feel her presence. And I could swear I heard her whisper my name in my ear at work the other day. That’s actually the second or third time that’s happened.

I’m conflicted about the holidays this year. Last year I was still in so much shock of losing her, that although the holidays were insanely difficult, I don’t think I felt the full magnitude of her not being there. This year it feels like it’s going to be worse because I’ve “adjusted” (I use that term extremely loosely. Extremely.) to her not being here and it’s hard enough to get through a regular day, so what is Christmas going to be like? I know I’ve said it a million times before, but if I could just go to sleep right now and wake up at the end of January, that would be ideal. It reminds me of that Green Day song, Wake Me Up When September Ends. Didn’t he write that about his father’s death? Or am I imaging that?

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