It's 1:42 a.m (Monday). as I start to write this. Either early or late, depending on your perspective. I'm sleepy, but not enough to actually want to go to sleep. I'm enjoying the quiet too much, I think. The house, the outside, is so quiet at times that I wonder if I'm the only one awake. The outside quiet is broken by the occasional sound coming from the freeway.
10:53 p.m. (Monday), watching tonight's episode of House. Tomorrow marks the 13 anniversary of my Mother's death. Her passing was the worst experience of my life. It was equalled by my Grandmother's passing eight years later... of the same illness.
My Mother has been gone for 1/3rd of my life. It's been so long now that it feels like a different life, of a different person. Probably because the person I was back then is not entirely who I am today. Her passing taught me many lessons about pain and loss.
I must admit that I became more cynical after her death, but also more open. Admittedly I dint miss her as I did before. But if I think of her the feeling of loss come back. No one in my family talks about the love one's that we have lost through the years. My Mother was really the first among my isolated part of the larger family, but not the last. Since her passing we've lost my Grandmother, my cousin and my father. But none of us talk about any of them. It's how we cope with the pain, I suppose.
I can only hope that I am making my Mother and Grandmother proud.