We buried Mom today (now yesterday). It was okay, I guess. I picked out her favourite coat and Meg and I got a cute soft hat for her that looked adorable. She would have loved it.
I can't talk more about this right now. My heart hurts. I miss her so much.
So then we drove four hours to Baton Rouge to have dinner at my SiL's parents' home, and on the way we stopped for gas, and I saw a black cat with a hurt paw. My brother (whom we were following) was upset, but under the pretence of buying cigarettes, I bought a can of cat food at the gas station and asked the clerk about the cat. She said the cat's paw has been hurt for 'a minute' (which I guess is Southern for 'some time'), and it lives with other cats in the woods behind the gas station. A lady feeds them every day and tries to catch Mr Wounded Paw. I looked to the side of the station and saw fresh paper plates and a big round tinfoil baking pan of water where the cats are fed, so I opened my can and set it there, and Wounded Paw came over and ate. On a Saturday out in the sticks, there was little else I could do. I hope WP gets trapped, and I feel bad over not being able to have done anything other than feed him.
If it had been Mom and I, we'd have tried to get him.
Butsoanyway.
When we got to Baton Rouge, we got led to my SiL's parents' home in the Garden District, and then got take-away from George's, which was nice (catfish po boy = doubleplus good), and it made me sad to think of how Mom would have enjoyed the trip, the food, the adventure...all the things she loved.
So now Meg and I are at a casino hotel, and I am sad. After the funeral I tried texting This Guy and got no response, so after we got to the hotel, I tried to phone him and at first he sounded really annoyed that I'd awakened him, so I said I would just phone tomorrow, then he started with the 'no, talk to me, blah blah' stuff, and I just told him I was fine and ttyl and crap. Then I go to update my Facebook status and pull up his page, and he went to...
omfg, I just fell asleep and slept for three hours and just woke up with hideous indigestion and a sore throat. :-/
Anyway, as I was saying, he posted pictures of a local university's football game, and it appears he went there with another woman, one whom I personally do not know, but one who is FB-friended with him (I fucking hate Facebook),and with whom he has exchanged flirty comments in the past (which I pretended to not have read). So while I will allow that he has no business being in mourning, that the very fact that he is with some woman (who looks like a stripper, IMO) while I am away and being ripped emotionally apart by memories of all the things with my mother that were beyond my control and tormenting to me (no one should ever have to hear their own mother cry in delirium for *her* mother's help, for example, not that he knows that 'cos he has, oh, ASKED or anything) suggest that at the very least, it is an inappropriate way to conduct oneself, and indicates that he may not actually give a damn about me at all, or has seized upon this opportunity to 'show' me, or whatnot. I think that when I phoned, he was guilted into waking up and trying to talk to me and for all I know still had that woman over, or something.
I guess that what I am trying to say is so much for him. I am not beautiful or anything great, but I am a human being who feels things very deeply, and deserves treatment better than this from someone who professes to love me. So oh-well.
And so I sit here in bed in St. Whatthefuck parish, a single woman with a dead mom and hellacious indigestion. Bleurgh.
Oh, guys... My mother was so wonderful that I wish it didn't tear my heart out to talk about her right now. I mean, I am not being unwarrantedly nostalgic; the woman was crazy as a loon, and possibly one of the most negligent mothers on Earth, but she was intelligent, funny, loving in her own way, and I wouldn't trade her for anything.
I have to try to sleep more; I took two Tagamet (jes, my indigestion is *that* bad) and am cold...so I am going to try to get sleep. I miss my mother. Hugs and love to you.
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
2 comments:
Oh, dear. I love your writing. I ache for you dealing with the loss of your mom. My dad's been dead four years this spring and my friends and I who've lost dads (quite a few, and I am 29) refer to ourselves as being in the "Dead Dads Club". So welcome to the "Dead Moms Club". Mourn in whatever way comes most naturally to you, there is no right way of course. And don't feel as if you're boring your readers when you write about your grief; you are not. I don't know her of course, but I am glad she is buried in her favorite coat and a cute hat. These things are important. The last ways to love someone. Good luck.
Someone with the nerve to make use of the L-word and then act in that dismissive way is someone you will be happier without. I'm sorry for your suffering; I kind of understand. My mom was parsecs from ideal, but losing her was like losing part of myself. Hang in there and give yourself time to heal.
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