The Hardest Day Of My Life

Today has been such a horrid shitty day. Right now, Ville is insisting on sitting beside me while he eats his strawberries. The sound of chewing makes me want to puke and it’s making me even more miserable right now. I must resist the urge to send him to his room when he’s not really doing anything. Ugh. Turned on some music, its kind of helping. :/ Anyway, I have to write about yesterday. Friday night I barely got between 2 1/2, maybe 3 hours of sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw my mom. I just couldn’t do it. I read and read until my eyes were burning, but I still couldn’t close them. I finally passed out some time after 2:30 am. Then, I was woken up by Darryl’s unrelenting allergies more times than I can count, so neither of us got much sleep. I woke up at 6:30 ish and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I read some more. We finally got up around 8 and started getting ready for the funeral. We were supposed to be there early, but I held back because I couldn’t be the first one there again. Friday night was horrendous, just the three of us and my mom lying there. I couldn’t do it again. We got there about 10 minutes before the service and we met with some people, including my grandmother. The one I’ve spoken to once since I was 16, and that was at my grandfather’s funeral. I was antsy about her meeting Ville and Darryl for the first time. For those who don’t remember, she told my mom that I was a whore because I got pregnant at 17 by a Hispanic guy, who I’m of course still with and expecting a second child with. Meanwhile, she loved my brother and his bitch ex girlfriend, who he’s no longer with and he’s gotten at least one other girl pregnant… Beyond that, she treated me like garbage and is the reason I’ve struggled with eating disorders for several years now.) Well, she was in tears (Who knew she actually cared about my mom?) and she was very nice to all three of us. She seemed to adore Ville and even went so far as to talk to my sister and brother. (My half siblings are half black and from what I understand she had made comments about them way back when I was little.) It wasn’t too horribly awkward, which was kind of nice. The service seemed to go on forever. I did get irritated when the pastor kept bringing up my grandfather, since he’s been dead for a year and a half and this was about my mom. Maybe I was just being oversensitive, but I could hear everything my mom would have said and she would have been just as pissed as I was getting. I think it hit Ville during the service because he cried throughout almost all of it. Every time I would think I had some control over my own emotions, I’d hear him sniffle and see him wipe his eyes. He just kind of curled himself into me. It literally broke my heart. I wished I could help him, but I can’t even help myself, so I just held him and we cried together. The worst part was when they closed the casket. Part of me didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to remember my mom that way, the way she was in my dreams after the viewing, but I knew it was the last time I would ever see her, so I looked, and I lost it. I needed Darrylm but Ville needed me more. We wound up tripping our way up the aisle trying to hold each other. After the service was over, some of the people said their goodbyes and left, while the rest of us went to the funeral home in procession. The service there was very short and like that, it was over. We each took one of the roses from the floral arrangement on top of the casket. It was all I could do not to throw myself on the casket and start screaming and crying. We said one final goodbye and walked back to the car. Even though I was driving, I kept looking back at the casket until I could no longer see any part of it. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, driving away from that funeral home without my mom. It killed me and it feels like I’ve been even more broken since then. I miss her and I want to call her and talk about my plans for Liam, my thoughts on work, anything and everything, like I used to. I can’t do that anymore. She’s gone. We spent some time with my sister and brother before they had to leave, bought some baby stuff and just tried to occupy our minds. Luckily, I was so exhausted last night that I immediately passed out. This morning was a different story. I’d only gotten about 4 hours of sleep and everything at work went to hell the minute I walked in. It hit me that now I’m expected to move on, to go on about my day like I’m not lost and broken. I can’t do that. I know eventually I’ll be able to at least function, but I’ll never be who I was. I’ll never go back to "normal." It’s been 4 1/2 years since we lost our baby and I’m still not over it. I think about her every day, though I don’t always cry anymore. Some days are harder than others though. There are some days where I break down and sob like I did the day I lost her. I imagine it will be much the same with losing my mom. It comforts me that they’re together, watching over us, being our guardian angels, but that that comfort doesn’t even come close to the healing I’m going to have to go through to be able to properly function. For now, I’m just going to take it day by day. Tomorrow I have to work with the new guy and make sure he’s properly trained. I’m in no condition for that, but as they say, "you just gotta keep going."

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