Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Not Sure What to Call This Entry

I'll warn you right now, this entry might just be mental diarrhea. I'm not sure why I'm posting it.

I just got back from a quick visit back home for Christmas, first with my in-laws and then my side of the family. This was the first visit I've made home in about two and a half years, really, since my mom's funeral. It was quick enough that we didn't even have time to get together with any friends.

My in-laws live about three hours west of my side of the family. I like to start with visiting my in-laws, because I feel like it just sets the tone better for the rest of the trip. It's busy and crazy and chaotic, but it's typically quite happy. His assorted aunts and uncles are happy to see me. They treat me like I'm their own niece.

The on the flip side, for about the last 10-12 years, every time I'd go home, I'd wind up being sick as a dog once we left my side of the family. My goal this year was for that to NOT happen. I think it was a combination of being run down and mental stress working together, but against me. Here's my ghoulish thought: Mom's gone, so my sister and I don't have anything to argue about anymore.

I had been loading up on vitamin C, plus my usual iron and vitamin D. So far, I'd like to report that my visit was not as bad as I was expecting it to be and I don't feel sick. Amen!

The house my mom lived in felt odd. My parents didn't put up pictures of themselves. There were only pictures of me, my sister, and then our families as we married. I never realized it until this visit. Hell, Shane and I have pictures of us and our extended families all over the place here. You walk into our house, you're going to know who lives here!

Most of Mom's things are gone. I have a lot of them, and so does my sister. Knick knacks are what remain in the house, along with some furniture my father is still using. Right now, I'm pretty sure he'd give me anything else I asked for, and he given me things on this last visit again, but I feel the need to sneak odd things out of the house for no good reason.

My mom sewed. I took a set of animal print pillow cases that she made. No one will notice they are gone. I didn't need them. I just wanted them. Shit, I have almost half of her jewelry and some of her crystal and furniture here, but I'm stealing pillow cases like I'm visiting fucking Bed, Bath & Beyond because Mommy liked the fabric. I think I have some kind of odd hoarding instinct starting in me. At least I'll actually use what I'm stealing though. There is some comfort in that.

So yeah, the house feels odd. It feels devoid of her, in just about every way. I lived in that house for about 20 years. It was the house I moved from when Shane and I got married, and moved together to start our lives. But I don't sense her anywhere it in anymore. I might as well be visiting my in-laws and looking for Mom there. Hell, my sister's house felt more like home to me now, than my actual home did.

I guess I wasn't expecting that, because Mom was everywhere in that house the last time I was there, even though she had already been gone for months.

My father, Shane and I went to the park where we scattered her remains, along with the remains of her dogs. I would have preferred to go alone, but I knew that if I did that, I'd sit at the picnic table there, under the tree, and cry like a baby all over again. And it felt rude of me, to tell them I wanted to go alone. She was a wife and a mother-in-law herself.

I bit the inside of my cheeks and my tongue when we got there, and I kept myself together. I kept telling myself that Mom wasn't there anymore. She was gone, in the physical sense, because what we scattered of her, and the dogs, had washed and blown away since that day in April. Wind, rain, snow, and ice have taken them much further than I'll ever go.

And when we came home, I went into the bathroom, cried a little for about three minutes, got myself together, and no one was the wiser.

No comments:

Post a Comment