Mom, I miss you.

My mom passed away in June of this year, having been diagnosed with a terminal cancer in Janaury.  A death so ugly and so unexpected, that I never accepted it.  Still. 

She raised four children by herself with not more than "a pot to piss in."  Her list of sacrifices for us over the years outnumber the hairs on my head. 

I know that grief is different for everyone.  I know that it comes and goes in stages.  I also know that I've never come to terms with my own grief.  I don't know how.  Does anyone?

Having been raised to be VERY independent (no father), learning the ropes mostly on my own, to fight for what I want, to sacrifice, to work hard, to not look back, a victim of the "just keep going" mentality, I have this 'THING,' this control thing, this stiff upper lip thing,
this I-can-do-this-by-myself-just-watch-me thing.  That bravado has prevented me from being able to grieve fully, I'm afraid.

I've not been myself since the day she died, but I won't admit to it.  I blame my sullenness on things, people, the weather, traffic, my age, whatever I can think of to blame my inability to "deal with it" (whatever "it" might be), but I haven't considered that it's because I've not worked through my grief and accepted that she's gone.

Memories haunt me continually.  Images, conversations, laughter, smells, keepsakes, traditions, voices, songs, TV shows... and rather than embrace them when confronted, I run.  I run as fast as I can.  What am I running from?  I'm playing make-believe.  Make-believe-Mom-is-still-here-and-she-will-be.

God I miss her so much.  I miss her with an ache I can't even find words to describe.  It's a physical pain as much as it is an emotional pain.  She was too young to die, too strong, too full of life, too vivacious.  She can't be gone.  I'm angry.  I've been cheated.  All those typical feelings that people go through when they lose someone, I'm haunted by them, but I somehow find ways to push them away, suppress them.  I yank on my "COURAGE" mask and "just keep going."

I don't want to deal with this, but I know I must. 

If I don't, it will consume me to the point of no return.

I miss you, Mom.  It hurts.