"Do you know where your mother's curlers are?"
The question took me off guard.
My step dad called and asked me where my mom's rollers were. Mom died several years ago from lung cancer. My sister and I went through all of her stuff at his request and tossed what we tossed and kept what we kept.
I thought it was a strange question. So I made a smart ass comment...
"Are you planning on making a change?"
He didn't even chuckle.
His girlfriend wanted to have her hair curled.
I sat on the other end of the phone...stunned.
Why would anyone want to use a dead woman's curlers?
I must admit that I struggle daily with the loss of my mom. But I knew that my step dad was going to move on.
The problem is that I don't think he understands my own grief. He doesn't understand that things he randomly does or say regarding my mom really bothers me.
It was very very difficult to see another woman sit at my mom's table and even more difficult to watch her sleep in my mom's bed.
(My eyes sting when I typed that just now)
The first time I met the girlfriend, she was sitting topless at the kitchen table right where my mom had her coffee. I wanted to vomit and run.
The thing with the curlers is that my mom always set her hair. She used those black rollers with the bristles and the plastic pointy pins and once her hair was up, she wrapped it in a red bandanna.
I could never figure out how in the hell did she sleep with those things in her hair.
In the morning she would take out the rollers and tease her hair until it was mad and sky high in the hair. Sometimes I wish I had a picture of that sight.
I don't think that I can ever go visit the house ever again. It is just like my mom was erased from a sketch and you can see the blurred lines just barely.
Grief is a weird emotion.
I haven't blogged in awhile.
My laptop took a crap and I am using my son's, which isn't the easiest to use. As I type, the cursor moves around and typos happen.
I also haven't had much to say. Who wants to hear about my adventures in fondling tomatoes and inspecting bananas?
Anyway....
This time of year is graduation. It is a happy time for families and students.
As I scrolled through my Facebook feed the other day I came across a photo of my aunt and uncle with their granddaughter. I teared up suddenly. My aunt looks so much like my mother. The same salt and pepper hair, the same shape face. I starred at the photo. My cousin's daughter reminds me of my own with long brown hair and a wide smile. I cried.
My mother died a few years ago from lung cancer. I never really sobbed over it. I don't think I grieved like you would imagine what grieving would be like. It is weird and hard to explain. I just expected to break down but I never did.
Back to the photo...
I think my tears came from anger. I am angry at my mom for dying. It is such a raw and real emotion. It came from just picturing my own mother and daughter on Kate's graduation day. This will never happen.
I used to think my mom would be around to share in my children's life events.
I think what angers me the most is that she was so selfish to not see a doctor sooner or to take better care of herself. She admitted that she hadn't seen a doctor of 17 years prior to the cancer diagnosis.
Maybe is a normal feeling to be angry.
I also think I am thinking more of missing my mother because I have been through some rough times over the last couple of years. There are times I wish I could just call her. She had a way of talking you off the ledge and give you a sense that everything will be ok.
Sigh...
