You're not that far away

You may have noticed my absence during the past several weeks, mostly because I have no idea what to say that is not already a repeat of posts past. I am still dealing with the same difficulties and haunts, still having dreams of my mom, still reaching for the phone to call her, still dealing with the anger that she is really gone. And as the months continue to flash by, I am realizing she is really gone.

As time goes by, although in some ways it gets easier, it does not for one second leave my mind that I will return to a house without her in it. I started my last semester of grad school, and today was my second week. Last Tuesday and today, I felt the old, familiar urge to reach into my purse and call her while walking out to my car in the parking lot that feels miles away when it's only twenty degrees outside. Talking to her on this daily trek was somewhat of a ritual of mine, and like her, it has now been put to rest.

One thing I have noticed about myself is that not all parts are back to normal despite my loss nearly four months ago. I know that this isn't ample time to "go back to normal," but I thought by now that things would return to their natural flow, but rather, they are more shaken up now than they have been in months. I am still searching for a job, reaching 72 applications tonight. Last week, I applied for graduation in May, and my thesis was approved. I have also purchased my wedding dress. I can't help but feel some happiness from these things, but I am also very aware of the fact that they do not hold the same excitement they could if she was here to share them with me.

What I wouldn't give for her encouragement on my job hunt or having to face the revisions on my thesis to continue to pursue my dreams of working in corporate wellness. She would make me feel so much better and at least temporarily ease the pang of hopelessness and uselessness I feel deep in my gut from not working anymore. I do not regret my decision to resign from my position, but I am starting to feel the desperation of watching my bank account of hard-earned, carefully-saved funds slowly draining.

I have this picture in my head of us going wedding dress hunting. We wake up early one Saturday morning on a weekend I have off from work, and we pile in her car and head toward downtown Minerva, a mini-roadtrip if you will, to Henri's, one of the best dress shops in all of Ohio. We went there for my prom dresses, and it was very special for the two of us. "I've been waiting all these years to bring you down here," she said, the first time we headed there. In my dream, I can see the same smile on her face, finally getting to share something so amazing with her daughter she's waited for all her life. We make the hour drive together, humming along to oldies and talking about wedding plans and school, updating her on my friends and what is happening with my thesis. Henri's is filled with hundreds of beautiful, elegant bridal gowns, and she sits patiently while I try on several I pick out. Oddly enough, the one she always picks out I think is hideous on the hanger but I agree to try on is always my top choice, and the wedding dress hunt I'm sure would be no different. She sometimes knew me better than I knew myself.

I am so heartbroken that was not a trip we could make together. And a trip there now, without her, would feel no more than a false attempt of "normalcy" that I have no desire to try and fake. I got my dress, by myself, from a local department store and tried it on in front of my aunts as they ooohed and aaahed over it. I just couldn't make the excursion, for my sake and for her's, a big deal. It had to be simple and private, and anything more would have been too hurtful, and far too much.

I think what I'm trying to say is that things that would have been so amazingly wonderful to experience have somewhat "lost their magic," I suppose. I turned in my graduation application and felt nearly nothing as I walked away from the official office. The program I dedicated six years of my life to...One that led me to exhaustion and illness, one that had me get up at four in the morning, work til six at night, invest more time in it than my own sick mother, and one that caused fits of desperate tears, questions to God like "Am I really supposed to be doing this with my life?" and one that involved simultaneously completing two more biochemistry classes, as if four weren't enough already, on top of the remaining rigorous class schedule and the completion of a thesis. I felt nothing. All I wanted to do was call my mom.

I drove home in my car in silence. No radio. No CDs. I left my cell phone in my purse where I couldn't reach it. I didn't want to talk to anyone if I couldn't talk to her. No magic at all. Those types of days are when I miss her most of all. Days that should be big, but are not anymore without her here to share them with.

One of the greatest things about our relationship was that I knew, really knew, how much I meant to her, and I know that she never once doubted how much she meant to me. I knew that my birthday was just as special for her, and days like high school graduation, being announced homecoming queen, and college graduation were probably even more important to her than they were to me. Sadly, days filled with thesis approvals, graduation applications, and wedding dress buying will never feel as glorious as they should, because I know that even though they would have been so grand to me, they would have made her doubly proud. Instead, they feel nearly the same as any other day. Buy your wedding dress today? Yep. No different than a Tuesday. Hey, you turned in your graduation application today? Sure did, feels no different than a Thursday.

The days just move by without any sense of "doing." I feel like I am doing nothing over and over again. Which, really, is the contrary. I have been endlessly working on my thesis and preparing to take my licensure exam to become a personal trainer in hopes of finally reigning in a job, getting ready for school to start, meticulously cleaning and organizing my room, planning a wedding and designing bouquets, boutonnieres, and corsages. But it is not the same type of fulfillment I felt as I walked out to my car after a good day at work. I miss my work. I think I am ready to return to the clinical field, and I began applying for clinical positions several days ago. I hope that my luck in this field may be better than some of the others I have tried to enter with my degree. At this point, I just want to feel useful again. Being "busy" with nonsense doesn't mean much to me except trying to keep my mind occupied, as opposed to being busy, like at a job, where I feel I have a purpose and a goal to help others. I think finally landing a job may increase my spirits by ten-fold. I never realized how much I enjoyed working with people and doing all I could to help them. Don't get me wrong, I actually did enjoy my days at work, but I never really understood how much I really loved it now that it is missing in my life.

Like missing her, it is just another thing I must add to the list of "things that will never be the same." So many things are missing now. I have never been one to enjoy change, and with all of the changes that have occurred in my life, it is no wonder I feel the way I do now. A job would be a nice start. And then onto the rest.

My dream for myself is to start feeling helpful and useful again. And to start refreshing my bank account. For a college student, I had a pretty cushioned amount, and I always felt so proud of my accomplishments and success of obtaining money to use after school was over to get an apartment, put a down-payment on a house, pay off loans, who knows. I hope to replace my money and achieve that sense of safety again. I'd like to continue cooking and painting, two things I have not done since she died. I think maybe it might be because I'm so uncomfortable with my life. Maybe as things begin to gain ground and "restart," if you will, I will feel the urge to continue pursuing things I loved so much during what feels like a past life. Since the major things are missing, I don't really feel like I can focus on the little things, like cooking.

I don't need much in my life. A job. Financial stability. The feeling of usefulness. And my family.

A pivotal role in my family is gone, and therefore, that dream of the ideal life is gone, but with a little help from the other necessities in life, I feel as though I may be able to slowly return to the old me and who I was working towards becoming. She will always be missing, since she was such a huge part of me. But she will not be too far away, especially on days I miss her the most, because those are the days she feels closest to me.