So this week hasn't been kind to me... I don't have pink eye, but Elf was sick and she passed her cold on to me. My head is stuffed full of gunk and my throat feels like it's been sandpapered.
I've also been in a lousy mood for most of the week and have been taking it out on the poor girls. The stress of this month is getting to me, and I've been stupid enough to let it. Still, the end is in sight... Just one more week to get through.
I haven't written anything for the past couple of days because I haven't known what to write. Overall I want this blog to be a positive place, somewhere that I can vent, but also somewhere I come to in order to remind myself that even when things are at their worst, they're not really as bad as I think they are. And since I haven't felt very positive lately, it's been hard to think of what to write that didn't sound as though I was whining.
It's times like these that I miss my mom the most. She really was my best friend. When I needed to cry, whine or just plain rant at the unfairness of it all, she was always there to listen, sympathise, and then, in the kindest possible sense, tell me to get on with life. It was hard to be negative when she was around because she simply didn't allow me to throw pity parties.
The weirdest thing is, I know my mom battled depression. She was depressed for most of my life, and it showed in the little things she did. My mom very seldom laughed. She slept; a lot. She didn't like to go out. She loved to entertain, but seldom did. She stopped cooking. Just... little things. And it wasn't that she was a negative person. In spite of her depression, she had the ability to find the positive in every thing; in every day. I so seldom heard her complain, that it was easy to forget that she was depressed.
My mom lost her job a year and a half before she died. And though she searched, no one wanted to hire her. She was too close to retirement age. I was fortunate in that I had a decent job, with a decent salary; and I could more or less afford to support two households. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't a problem. My mom had spent 22 years working hard to support us and raise us well, and she did a damn good job. But even though I tried to reassure her that I didn't really mind, that it had always been my intention to look after her when I got a job; I knew she hated being dependent on me. We may not have had much, but we always took pride in the fact that we never sponged. If we needed help; and we often did, in one way or another; we always tried to find a way to repay the generosity of friends and family. And they were incredibly generous. We were so lucky to have the friends that we did. And I know it's mostly because of the kind of person my mom was. She inspired the love and loyalty and generosity of people. And she returned it in spades.
True, my mom wasn't perfect. Like everyone, she had her faults. But they were easy to overlook. Easy to forgive. In many ways, I think I've managed to block out the negatives since she died. It's natural to want to remember the positives, to forget the irritations that seem so trivial now she's gone.
It's hard being back home again. I moved back at the end of October last year, but then I kept myself so busy with friends and house-sitting and stuff in an effort to avoid coming home, that I only really spent a few days a month here until I finally had no choice but to come back. And now I'm here and it feels like home again, except that it doesn't. My mom isn't here.
It's hard to describe how I feel about that. On one hand, I know I've accepted her death. I've started to move on from it, and I've started to live my life as an adult without my mom around. On the other... well, I miss her. Obviously. But it doesn't really hurt the way it did in the first few months after her death. The gap that was there has been filled with my memories of her, and I do have a lot of memories, good and bad. Fortunately more good than bad.
Even though I miss her though; I'm not entirely sure that I would want her to still be alive if I was given that choice. And I know that sounds odd. But if she hadn't died; I wouldn't have found the strength I needed to stand on my own. I wouldn't be who I am now. And I wouldn't have the family I do now. Elf and Orphan would be two strangers, my brother and I would still be fighting like cats and dogs (which is not to say we don't still fight); and most of all, I wouldn't have figured out that even though she's gone; my mom is still here.
The memories I have of her, the lessons I learnt from her, and the fact that she set the best example of how to live life: without complaining, and finding the positive in everything no matter how bad it seems; those are the important things. And those are the reminders I find when I look for her at home.
So no, home isn't the same without her. It's different, but it's still home. And it's just as good.
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