all the small things

Wednesday night. Alias night. In the four years it has been on television I have missed only one episode. I missed it the night we found out my mom was truly dying. March 30, 2005. It was the episode where Sydney was buried alive. It is rather shocking to think about the timing of the episode given the circumstances of life at the time.

Even when we were at the hospital and at home through hospice my mom wanted me to watch it. She knew it was one of my favorite shows. Even when she was dying she was concerned about imposing on me or what I was giving up to help her. Hard to believe, but if you knew her…you know it is true. As if I would ever be mad about having to skip a TV show to help her. Insanity. There is nothing I would not have given up to help her. Truth.

Tonight while watching Alias I was sideswiped by a thought that came to mind during the commercial break. I thought…I should call my mom before she goes to bed. Where in the hell did that come from? She has been gone now for a little over two weeks. I can’t call her. I can’t talk to her. I can’t see her. I want to. I want to more than anything in this world. But. I can’t…ever again.

It doesn’t get easier over time. It is a lie. I honestly don’t think it will ever get easier. Everyday I realize yet another thing that I will miss about my mom. Every day I realize yet another loss in my life because she is gone. At first I thought of everything in a larger than life, general sense. I thought about how she won’t be here for holidays, birthdays, events and milestones in life. Then as time passes I slowly realize everything else she won’t be here for. I now think about how she won’t be here to help me cook eggs sunny-side up (yes, I am 30 and I can’t cook an egg that way…never turns out the right way as my mom’s). I think about how she won’t be here for me to call and say I just landed my dream job. I think about how she won’t be here to help with my theatre productions like she always did. I think about how we won’t be able to sit at the kitchen table and just talk about life. I think about how we won’t watch The Apprentice and The Price is Right together ever again. I think about how I won’t be able to call her anymore to just say I love you. I think about how I won’t ever be able to give her a hug again. I think about everything that will never happen again and I realize that all the small things are more crippling than any of the big things. And that is something no one warned me about.

Just when you think it can’t get any worse…it does. Even now when the tears come, they fall just as hard as they did the day she died. And they probably always will.