2 Years, 2 Days - Regrets of a Daughter

I cried for mom today.

I cried for all the missed opportunities. She took care of grandma for so long. Then grandma was gone and we were both widows. I thought we would go to North Carolina. Perhaps the first of many trips together.
She had such a kind heart and I waited until she was dieing to realize it. She said since I was 18 it was a few phone calls a year, a visit for half a day every few years, an odd holiday. How sad. How selfish. I just thought she would always be there. Of course that is what I thought. I was so busy in my life. She was a picture in my head, mom at home. I did not think I needed her. I did not even think I liked her. Yet, in those few days before the pain medication took over her thinking, I really loved her. I wanted so much for her. I could have done so many easy, little things to make her life better. I was her oldest daughter, her baby girl, and I shunned her. I talked bad about her. I avoided her.
I moved in with her when she was dieing out of love and caring for her, not out of any sense of duty. I knew first hand, or rather second hand, how scary it was to die. How she could not possibly live alone with cancer. It was then I saw what a truly beautiful women she was and I realized she had always done for others. She was such a loving soul. I truly miss her. I sadly miss the relationship that could have been if I took the time for her, or judged her as an adult, if I did not listen to anyone else but saw for myself if I enjoyed her friendship. I have lost again. I have lost my husband. I have lost my mother. I realize I have also lost the chance of having a close, loving relationship with my mother.

I am adrift, alone, and the tears drip from my cheeks and run off the edges of my nose onto my husband’s sweater.

5 years, 7 Months: Holidays Alone

It is 5:40pm and I have not eaten all day. This is normal on Thanksgiving because I want a large appetite for the pies. This Thanksgiving I go to the Jack-in-the-Box drive-thru. As I am waiting for my cheeseburger, I can feel the tears threatening to expose my loneliness. Then the unfortunate guy who is working on Thanksgiving will know my life is more pathetic. For now, I want to keep that a secret. When I turn the corner, I see the homeless woman and her dog. Shopping Cart Syndrome is not just a syndrome. I give her all my money, fifty cents. On the trip back home, I push my tongue against the roof of my mouth just behind my front teeth. I look up with my eyes only. These two techniques will usually stop the tears. Finally, the eyestrain becomes annoying and it is hard to see the road looking at my car's headliner. The tears flow and they do not stop. A slight sting in the eye corners, a bit of tightening in the cheeks, some warmth, and my vision clouds over and then clears and I can feel the wet enemies march downwards for another soundless cry