Sharing my Post from another Forum.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Its been a month since mom died and I am starting to feel a little bit alive again. What a month it has been. It seems like I spent the past month going to bed with the birds as it was easier dealing that way. If only pulling the covers over my head made the process easier. For a while sleep seemed like an excellent coping strategy. I felt like during the day, life was a long series of "going through the motions"; but I feel like I am starting to come back to my own life a little.
It still feels weird not having mom here. There are still times that I feel that she will come home at any moment like she's been on a long vacation, and when she comes home she'll be the mom I remember that is full of life and truly herself, not afflicted with dementia. Sometimes I hear noises at night with the house settling and for a second I wonder if it is her and then I catch myself. Tonight as I was watching a movie, I automatically turned the volume down when the music came on loud as I didn't want that to disturb her and have her come sleepily out of her room and not be able to get back to bed.
Someone told me once that for people with dementia, after they die they are wrapped in a protective cocoon as they heal from the dementia to whatever is beyond with their memories restored. In that time, we may not feel them etc. But once we are able to dream of them, it means that the cocoon has lifted and they are fine and whole. I dreamt of mom for the first time the other night and I hope that means she is truly herself again and happy with my father, her brother and all the rest. I hope she is caring for my cat TC. So many hopes. Not all is gone.
There is some guilt as I start to live again. Its as if I am forgetting her by getting on with life. I know in my head that this isn't true. My heart will catch up in time.
Every day I miss her. I talk to her still. When I see a beautiful sunset or a tree she would have loved, I point that out. It makes me feel closer. Somehow I feel that she hears me.
I wish there was a magic formula for the grieving process. I am heartened that I am feeling again but know that this is most likely a spiral process of ups and downs as I go through this. I know I will always miss her just like I have missed my dad. And as silly as it sounds, my black cat TC. Funny how it makes me feel better to think that my cat has her lap to curl up in again, and that mom has my cat as part of me.
I sometimes go into her room that she had upstairs before I moved her into the room on the first floor. That room upstairs used to be my room before I went to college and then moved away for a while. Mom kept that room like a shrine. My stuffed animals and music boxes were still in their place like when I was a teen. They are still that way. Funny little bobble-headed statues that friends gave me sit on the dresser. My Donny Osmond albums sit in the rack under the stereo mixed with a few of her records. She could never quite figure out how to go from the record player to the radio when she wanted to go to sleep listening to easy listening music. I'd change the function for her then get a little frustrated as her music was a little too loud for me to get to sleep as she was a little hard of hearing though she'd never admit to it. I still can't seep with the radio on. Singing lyrics in my mind as the music plays keeps me awake.
So many memories. They are comforting and they are sad. The bitter-sweet. This house, my house now, is full of memories and full of life as if the walls hold on to all the years gone by. I can almost see the years as a montage as I look in various rooms and remember.
But life does go on. I am starting to date and make plans. I am going to Vermont for Christmas. I am getting out and doing things, going to movies, living, and putting one foot in front of the other. And for the most part, I am OK. I am picking up the pieces of life and I am OK.