Not an auspicious beginning

Last night I had hoped to relax and somehow at least feign being prepared to go back to work today.  This did not occur.  Whether there was a trigger for it, or if it was a culmination of many things, I had an anxiety attack last night that led me to call EMS.  Now to my scant credit, I did tell them the chance existed that it  was just an anxiety attack, but when your mother has just died of a heart attack, your chest hurts, and you're alone, your mind can mess with you in some serious ways.  The EMS personnel were very pleasant and understanding, however. 

I did go back to work today.  This is going to be very tough.  I cannot focus worth a darn and there's a ton that needs to be done.  For the record, I should at least say that I work in the legal field, where there's always stress and deadlines abounding.  My mother worked in the same field, and I had a taste today of just how painful that's going to be for me in ways I didn't even think of until they occurred.  I went to one of the courthouses to file some things this afternoon, and for once managed to get there without being as rushed as normal.  Mom was better at that than I was, and the time of day was, in fact, when I would have been most prone to run into her if she had needed to be there as well.   I caught myself looking at the clock and wondering if I had just missed her.  I think that, as I feared, now that I don't have to be in "crisis mode" anymore, the reality of her being gone is a much more overt and intrusive fact that gets thrust in my face repeatedly.

I miss her so much.

I don't know all the varied stages of grief yet - some articles say there are five, some say seven.  They all list moods you may or may not have, in varying order, with nothing ever being the same.  Wherever it is in their list, I'm definitely getting to the "what's the point" part of the program.  I lost the one person who loved me more than anything, who accepted me unconditionally, and with whom I shared so much.  That leaves a void that is currently making anything and everything else seem pointless.  Yay, depression.

I did go to the doctor today, as the nice EMS people suggested.  I was pleased to know that my blood pressure was a much nicer 130/82, instead of the 180/110 from last night, even if it was probably the result of the anti-anxiety medicine I had been given at the outset and hadn't been taking.  Actually, one of the EMS folk make a point of telling me that they give this particular medicine to pregnant women, by way of pointing out that it's not some heavy duty prescription.  I don't like the idea of medication like that ... well, I suppose it's more accurate to say that I am respectfully wary of it, though I'm not stupid enough not to take it if deemed necessary.  It certainly helped last night, even if it didn't cure the chronic embarrassment.

Getting through this week, or even just getting through tomorrow, is going to be a painful slog.  And as if that wasn't bad enough, tomorrow night will mark two weeks since I last saw Mom alive.  They say you're not supposed to mark that in your mind, but how can you not?  And how in the hell can it have been two weeks already?

First post

My mother passed away eleven days ago, having had a heart attack in her sleep.  She was sixty-four years old.  I am her daughter.   And so, for the purposes of this blog, at least for now, I will go by Margie's daughter.

Mom and I were both single - she actually raised me as a single parent for most of my childhood, and we lived in the same place.  We saw each other every day and shared our lives.  As a result,  I lost not only my mother but one of my best friends in the same moment.  I know it won't come as a surprise that it should be so, but I cannot tell you how painful this is.  I know that ultimately, having been able to share as much with Mom as I did will make even this pain worthwhile, but it's hard to see that right now.  However, pain of loss is one of the prices of love, and so I will pay it.

Last night, we held her Celebration of Life and as it was ending, it hit me that when we left there, when I no longer had to worry about getting everything planned, and when I didn't have the immediate need to do certain things to focus upon, she would truly, finally, irrevocably be gone.  Not in spirit, because I do feel that Mom is still with me, but gone in that I will never get to see her again, I will never get to hug her again, and I will never get to spend time with her again.

This blog is meant to be a way for me to remember and pay tribute to my mom, and perhaps as a way for me to heal.  I do intend to refine the generic format, add pictures, and otherwise make it special, but for now, I just wanted to start.  I cannot believe that it's already been a week and a half.  Some memories I haven't been able to dredge up yet, thanks to stress and grief, yet I still want to get details of those last days down while fresh. Whatever the impetus, it was time to begin, however tentatively. 

Why people, myself very much included, choose to do this in a public format is in some ways beyond me, although if that becomes a problem, I can always change it.  I think, however, that part of it may have something to do with the fact that sharing things with others somehow validates the effort in a way that simply writing in a journal doesn't.  I'm sure Google would give me hits galore with research on this, but right now I really don't care. 

This is my journey of how to learn to live my life after my mother's death, and it has begun.