I Need My Mom

My mom died August 30,1996, when I was 18 and only a week into my senior year of high school. She, my brother (who also died), and my mom's roommate were on their way to visit my aunt in Arizona. In New Mexico, around 5:oo a.m., my mom's roommate fell asleep at the wheel and hit a guard rail. My mom was crushed in her sleep. My brother, who was not wearing a seat belt, was thrown out the back window and died instantly from the impact. My mom's roommate got scrapes and bruises (a sore point for some). That was a day I will never forget, and it changed my life forever!

Today, I miss my mom. I go through days like this. This doesn't mean I am constantly mourning over their loss. I just have days where I want my mom to put her arms around me and hold me again. I don't have a person that can do that for me anymore. One time, at the temple, I could swear I could feel her arms around me, but that hasn't happened since. Yes, I have John. That is great. I do like to lay in his arms. It is just not the same.

I push away any mother figure in my life because I feel like I am disrespecting my mom. I really don't want to do that. No matter how long she has been gone, she is still my mom.
I know where her body is. That doesn't help. I could tell at the first viewing that she wasn't there anymore. Yes, going to the cemetery did help when I was mourning the most (you know, the first few years).

I get so jealous of other women and their moms sometime. When I read a blog about how someone misses their mom, I think, "At least, you can still hear their voice." I know that is heartless. I'm sorry. I know that you all do really miss your moms. I am just jealous. I'm not even sure I remember what her voice sounds like anymore.

When I was in Arizona visiting my aunt (the same aunt my mom was going to visit), we watched a video from a pool party that the family had sometime after my grandmas funeral. (Yes, I know that is strange, but that is just what happened. I don't think it was planned that way.) I saw my brother. He was 12. I heard his voice, knowing that was not how it sounded when he was 19. I was hoping to see my mom and hear her voice too. I did see her hair, I think. I didn't get to hear her voice.

My mom was bipolar. She didn't make great choices after my grandma died. My teenage years were hectic. My mom left when I was 13. We did get to visit her, but it wasn't the same. My dad did his best to raise us from that point on. Does that mean I love my mom less? No. I can't judge my mom for things that she did. I don't know what her state of mind was when she did them.

I wish she had journals I could read just so that I could know what she was feeling and when. Just so that I can know her as more than just my mom.

I'm sorry about all of the ramblings. Today is starting off as what I call a, "I need my mom day."