Quiet Weekend...

So the Tom Petty song keeps playing in my head. You know the one. The waiting is the hardest part...

But then I have to think to myself, it's not. You know it's not. You know that this is going to seem like the easy part when the waiting is over.

Brent asked me this morning what I wanted to do today. We had a few things kind of penciled in but he's letting me take the lead this weekend. If I don't feel up to doing anything then that is what we will (or won't) do. I told him I'm trying to keep as normal of a schedule as possible because I know when it happens I won't be able to.

As if I'm able to right now.

I keep finding myself in time jumps.

Like I'll be doing something, or getting ready to do something and then instead I'm just staring at the wall while the clock ticks.

After my dad died I held myself together. Literally. I had my arms wrapped around myself holding myself tightly. Pretty sure I was trying to prevent coming completely unwound. Yesterday at Target I needed to unclench my fist to be able to pick up the laundry soap. And it took a second to get it to release. Them to release. Seems I was walking around with both fists clenched hard. So I'm not yet to the point where I am just trying to hold myself together but I am ready to punch you if you get too close.

In the shower today I realized that I have had my last conversation with my mother. She stopped talking on the phone a long time ago so even if she was awake enough to do it, there isn't going to be a last minute phone call. Again, when Dad died I can remember being on the plane flying in to Albuquerque realizing that there was going to be no "Oh goody!" reaction from my dad when I announced, "I'm here!" I had heard his voice for the last time.

So now I'm shuffling through all of the files in my brain listening to my mother speak.

Hearing her laugh.

My mother has a great laugh.

And I'm doing my best not to think of her in past tense just yet. Because once that happens it happens forever.

I know I said I'm not going back, and I do honestly think it's the right call but it's difficult to be 1300 miles away just waiting while my mother fades from this life.

I'm holding on with clenched fists. Not ready to let her go just yet.