Grief

Now this isn't something I ever counted on (though i probably should have).

Let me start by saying that I had a really good day today. I wanted to go hang down by the river, and read or write, but the part of the river I was wanting to hang at was closed off (which I don't get why as today was a beautiful day but I digress), so I headed a bit further down to Petite France and found a spot under a wonderful tree. I spread out the Princess Blanket, had Little Mari in my lap, and pulled out my journal to start writing, while going between Zoo Army and Acht (shut up, I'm obsessed, I know this, deal with it! XD).

I ended up writing a lot about my mom, some personal psycho analysis stuff, whatever, just got to thinking. I won't go into details, but a lot of it got to bothering me, big time.

That said, I call Debbie, and find out her middle daughter is being a huge, immature brat AGAIN, and yet once again, keep in mind I'm the bad one, though i hold no blood, genetic, or legal relation to Debbie, yet here I am picking up the burden once again.

Long story short, all this mother related stuff sent me into an all night break down. It's come and gone, for sure, but come more than gone. I've been bawling most of the night, and even when it calmed down, I was still fighting off tears. Basically it was one of my breakdowns that happens once every so often. It's been months since one came up (I'd say at least a good month before I left the US was the last one).

It's frustrating to see this, and know that I will never have another chance to call my mom. I will never have a chance to ask her for her advice. I will never have a chance to even hug her and say 'Love you mom, talk to you later.' There is no talk to you later, for me. There's a huge part of me I will NEVER be able to replace, and will never understand, because my mom isn't here. I've spent the last 10 years feeling like an incomplete person.

So on top of all this, this is the first major break down like this I've had, alone (did that make sense?). I've always had someone around, even at the worst ones (every year at Christmas, without fail, the one song that makes me think of my mom plays, and every year without fail, I run out of a store in tears, Brandon usually right on my heels). I just am so angry now, because the one person I can turn to now is really no more than a memory, and a few old photographs. I barely remember her voice, or watching her put on makeup before going to Worship on Sunday mornings, or her sitting at the table, talking to me over lunch. I don't even remember what my mom's favorite song was, or if she had one, or a favorite book, or even a favorite color. And don't even ask me if I remember her favorite Bible Verse, or days that were important to her. I couldn't tell you. All I can tell you is her name was Linda Kay Wilson York, she was born April 1, 1958, and everyone tells me to this day I look just like her. Beyond that, I don't know who my mother is. Or was.


So now I get to watch some ungrateful, selfish person treat their mother like this, and it makes me angry. I'd give anything to be able to give my mother a hug, yet a girl can't acknowledge her mother, because she's letting some stupid, angry boy poison her mind. She's letting some jerk turn her against her mother, and all I can do is stand by and watch, and be angry about what I'm missing out on.

It's times like these where I wish the alternate realities I made up for myself were real.