There are so many memories…so many little things, that I associate with mom. My 9/11 story is tied to my mom. We heard about the attacks on the radio and then we switched on the television and watched the news together on the other side of the world. Watched tragedy unfold.
It’s difficult right now. It’s at a point where I am sensing people wanting me and my family to just move on…be healed already. Re-integrate into society, stop hurting…just carry on with our lives. But I don’t think we are ready yet. Our loss is still fresh, less than six weeks old.
I think it is a complete myth that you ever heal from this kind of loss, you adapt. But I don’t think that this is an event that you ever truly heal from.
I admit that I wrote an angry post yesterday. But it was cathartic. I felt much better for admitting that I have those questions. I know I will never hear the answers, but the purpose of asking questions is not always to get answers, sometimes it is just part of adapting.
The truth is if my mom was alive, I doubt I would ask those questions. We did not have that kind of relationship.
I know that my mom and dad taught me to stop and savor my surroundings, especially outdoors in the wild. I learnt to notice birds from my mom.