Every year on this day, I open my computer, go to my pictures and expect to see something new. There's a little piece of my brain that can't reconcile the fact that there are no new pictures of my mom in there.
I think that one of these days I will "get it", but the truth is that every time I pick up my phone or drive towards the side of town where we used to live, I kind of expect to see her, hear her voice.
If I look back at my old posts from these last few years (Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One), the same pattern seems to hold: I've been at work super late, had less than 5 hours of sleep in multiple nights, and have an insane amount of things going on at work to distract me.
I always think that I should maybe take a day off, mourn properly, but then I think that maybe the busy-ness distracts me from all of the sad, awful thoughts that are better left un-thought.
But then again... just because I don't have the time or energy to say them out loud doesn't make them un-thought, right?
Over the years, I've realized that pain is something that scabs over, maybe heals entirely, but the memory of that pain, the memory of being that 22-year-old who really needs her mom right that minute - it never goes away.
Time heals all wounds, yadda yadda yadda, but time is also a real asshole too, because it takes you further and further away from the one you love.