August is always a tough month for me. It's full of birthdays and celebration of life, but always seems to be overshadowed by another event. And it's why I haven't blogged much lately. I'm confused by my thoughts and feelings, trying to sort them out, but I get frustrated and stop.
Last Saturday was so much fun. We met up with a bunch of friends at Malibu Family Wines, drank excellent wine and ate good food. The company was fabulous and the after-party was equally entertaining. Rock Band at the Early's, what could be better?
I bring this up because my friend Dave asked me what was on my mind and I said, without missing a beat, "My Mom". And he looked surprised, and Katy, who was standing next to me, put her hand on my back in a soothing manner, and I continued with "I'm not sad, I just miss her." And that's just it. I am missing her every single day. I think of her all the time. Sometimes with anger and sadness because she was taken away too soon, but sometimes with happiness and awe, that I got to have her as my Mom, I was that lucky to have her in my life in such an amazing way.
I get tired of talking about it. I am sure that people sometimes get tired of hearing or reading about it. But I'm also getting pretty good at reading people, and can tell very quickly if they don't want to hear about it, so I quickly change the subject. I'm not offended, sometimes they are tired of the subject and/or fret because they don't know what to say. And that's alright. This is ultimately my own journey through grief and it's up to me to figure it out. I am so incredibly grateful for my amazing support of friends and family. I don't know where I'd be without you guys.
I've been reading old blog posts from 2006 and 2007 to help dig up old memories about the experience for this essay that I'm writing. First prices is three grand and two round-trip-tickets to NYC plus lunch with the magazine editors. I doubt I'll win, but why not try? Maybe this is what I need to do to move on with my grieving process. I feel stuck and I don't like it. But at least I can open that recipe box now without bursting into tears.