grief entrance gate

i always thought my memory was bad until this horror struck and suddenly my head is flooded. i picture her throughout the years. i see her in the kitchen, at YL camp, at church, at birthday parties, cleaning the house, even marching into my room to attempt the sex talk.  All these images of mom spend their day roller coasting through my mind. and for now i love it. i want to remember it all.  

our news is so entirely henious and there are so many words I cannot even pronouce that currently describe whats happening to my dear mom and so all the medical and informative updates we are going to try to keep on, so feel free to follow along there for that and leave thoughts any time as i know it will be a great encouragement to my family. but this blog, writing, it will continue to be my therapy. its not sweet and boxed in so dont come for that, its my drawing board that i leave in the middle of the road for all too see. idiotic, maybe.  

oddly the most cathartic parts of the last few days have been when i pick up the phone or hear a message and others are sobbing with me. they think they arent suppossed to cry but its absolutely soothing.  i feel okay when i hear tears because i need this shared mourning. mourning for what was, not for whats gone.  the entrance of grief's gates that are like riding an elevator down a floor to a new reality.  one where the most capable woman i know will no longer be always capable. she will tire, and confuse. she will not type me emails or write me long birthday cards, she may not be making our favorite meals through the holidays, she will need help instead of always serving and helping and i don't even know what else.

i have years of cards from her, her words so beautiful, so encouraging, so honoring of me and so hopeful on my behalf. thank God im a packrat. 

two days ago i ran the fastest 3 miles ive ever run. so far i cry, i run, i call someone and cry some more, i create order, do work, i pour a glass of wine, i space out for a show, i pray over and over and over and i sleep.  

i am heartbroken and yet still very much in shock. its not absorbed. the only thing i can think that crushes me 1000 times over is to even consider that Hannah will grow up without her SuSu. This makes my body physically ill to imagine, it feels to me the greatest lost i can comprehend at this point. SuSu is one of the best gifts of my daughter's life. They cherish one another in a way I never knew a grandparent. SuSu adores her and teachers her and well, she must be there. She must. We cannot do kindergarten or 4th grade or teens or , we can't. i can't even think this. but i am.