Ahhh, grief, my old friend.
So many people have said I was brave to sing and speak at my mom’s funeral (as well as my dad’s and my sister’s).
What a devastating loss I’ve suffered and how I must feel.
I’ve been facing every day asking what is wrong with me? Why am I not sad all the time? Don’t I miss my mom? Don’t I hate how she died?
The coping mechanism that kicks in with my kids’ pain kicked in when my mom died.
Since then I’ve been interviewing lawyers, researching the NC Senate Bill 33, speaking before the Senate Judiciary committee, taking care of funeral details and estate responsibilities.
In other words, still fulfilling my role as daughter and caretaker.
Still doing that tonight but something is different.
763 pages of files from her assisted living facility. For me to go through. And analyze and look for discrepancies.
And all I feel is why didn’t I do more? Why does it feel like it wasn’t enough? Why didn’t I sacrifice more and give more and lift her spirits more?
I hate when someone else is at fault yet I feel like I should have somehow done more. Advocated more. Protected more. Asked more questions.
Tonight I have to let it go. Let the grief roll over me.
It’s healthy. It’s the right thing. But, oh, how it hurts.