I am still not able to really focus on old memories of her. Whenever I do just sit alone, and thank of her, my first vision is seeing her laying in the hospital after she passed. And that alone makes me feel heartbroken. I don't want that to be my first thought of my mom. I want to be able to remember and initially think of all of our pool days together, our shopping trips, our trips to Riverside, vacations, and just days where I would go out and watch a movie with her and eat up all of her baked goodies. She was ALWAYS baking or trying out new recipes.
Putting together words to express how empty I feel is nearly impossible. I am still so confused and questioning why it had to happen to her. I can think of HUNDREDS of people who it should have happen to. When my students confide in me, and tell me how they are being abused, why didn't it happen to the people abusing my sweet, innocent student(s)? To the rapists, and murders, who are now in prison but living a better life than on the streets for some---why did it not happen to them? To the elderly who have lived a wonderful life, but now are in pain and suffering in a nursing home--why did this "peaceful" death not happen to them instead? My mom was one of the strongest Christians I have ever known, especially in the past 10 years. She was a genuine Disciple of Christ. So why on earth would God allow her to leave? People keep telling me it's not my place to know this and I will never know. Which I understand, but it makes it more cruel. My mom was doing so much good in our church, our community, our family for sure, and our world. She always volunteered, donated her time and money when she could, put her Faith before anything else, treasured her family and her sweet grandkids. And now she is missing out on all of it. WE are missing out on our time and more memories with her. It is cruel, unfair, and unjust. She should not have died. It wasn't supposed to be her.
My sister keeps teasing me saying "when will your anger phase be over!?", and to be quite honest, I think it's just starting. I find myself angry daily thinking about what happened to my mom. And whenever a comment is made about my mom in the slightest ill manner-it sets me off. I refuse to let anyone talk about my mom in a negative tone. She was not perfect, but not one on this earth is. It angers me to think of people forgetting my mom, not remembering her or that amazing smile she had. Even her old classmates from high school will still come up to me and tell me stories about how kind and caring my mom was in school. This makes me so proud of her. I'm never going to forget when a gentleman at the Pub two years ago came up to me and Dena and said "Jil, holy sh*t is that you? God you look the same as you did 40 years ago". The conversation led to me trying to explain that I am her daughter, but the man was suffering from PTSD from being in the Service. He didn't go into any of that detail. But he told me a story that he claimed changed his life. He told me that when they were in study hall with Bull Frog (a teacher they gave that horrible nickname to), my mom told him that he needed to get his act together, and finish school and do something with himself. He told me that he dropped out of school that year, went and joined the military, and then ended up getting his GED. He said he'll never forget that conversation with my mom. When I told my mom of that story later, she remembered exactly who it was after I described him, and said she can remember exactly what table they were sitting at in study hall too when that happened. This is the kind of stuff that shows how incredible my mom was!
I think of you every hour, every minute, of every day Mom. I wish you were here more than I could ever describe. I know you would be so sad and heartbroken to see how things are falling apart here. I wish I was allowed to be at your house, go in your closet, smell your clothes, and just try to feel you. I miss being at your house with you. Beau is already asking if he gets to go swimming this summer :(. I ask, maybe even pray, that you send me a sign. I have not had one in a few weeks. The last dream I had of you was cruel. I have overwhelming feelings of guilt for not helping you and preventing you from leaving the hospital. I never should have listened to you that last day you were in the hospital. And I will forever regret it. I love you more than life itself. You were my rock. My person.
