I’m not actually sure how to begin this, but if you follow me on facebook at all you probably already know.
Thursday June 9th 2016 my mother died. I got the call while I was out having dinner and a beer and watching the hockey game. It was sudden and unexpected and has spun my world off track while simultaneously not feeling real at all. It’s like she is out for one long cigarette break.
She likely died in her sleep, which I’m glad for. If you’re gonna go, that’s the way to do it. But she was only 67 years old, and I am only 38 years old, and I thought for sure that I had so much more time left. It doesn’t feel fair.
My mother had six children. She was a great mother. Incredibly paranoid and full of worry, but a funny, funny woman. It’s going to feel very bad the first time I go to call her and realize that I can’t. I can’t call her, she can’t call me, there just won’t be any more anything.
The services aren’t for a few days, so right now we’re sort of in a holding pattern. But there’s laughter amongst the grieving and mom would appreciate that very much.