Losing Mom: Yes, I'm still extremely sad

It's been over six months. This came as a surprise to my brother because he's been tasked with handling our finances. I had to bow out while in grad school in London.

"It feels like years," David said. "I was relieved when you told me it had been six months."

He says this because we both regularly experience a firestorm of emotions swell and erupt. Days can start off "fine", but then the monster of anguish attacks like a bitch beast out for revenge.

I'm trying to job search but find it difficult to focus on what I want. So I've tried to hone in on what I know I want and love, under normal circumstances. I used to love certain things, such as media meet-ups or reading the opinion section of the paper, but now often find them banal or inconsequential. I've been struggling with a future that exists beyond Saturday. I worry I'm not the good friend or mentor I once was, either snapping or retreating to cry. Oh yes, you cry when your mom dies. Every. Day.

Before Mom died I hadn't cried in months. I actually can't remember the last time. I had been over the moon in London, stressed by my dissertation but doggedly pursuing my goal. I was researching my subject, King George III and the theodolite, telescope and timekeeper, in the way I had once pursued love interests. In my teens and early twenties, I studied hard but never to the detriment of my love life. Now I was living life as I had created it, sharing every morsel with Mom. "Mom, sorry about the horns blaring!" I shrieked one day from the Thames, across from my tube stop, Temple.

"No!! I feel like I'm in London."

Losing your mom means such memories are replayed over and over, like an old-fashioned 45, until you can recite each word without revisiting your script. You will write in your diary, but not most days because it's usually such a sad process you don't want any witnesses.

One of the painful parts of grief is others projecting their experience onto yours. I thank my older friend in London who told me soon after Mom's death that it would be harder for me than he because his parents were still married when his dad passed. Yet that may not be everyone's experience, especially if they enjoy a strong social network. Other people have insisted it takes x amount of time to stop crying every day or y amount of time before I will no longer think of her in such a sad way. Everyone means well, but the greatest comfort is just a sympathetic and empathetic ear or touch. Yes, PC police, I accept random hugs or squeezes to the shoulder.

I thank my lucky stars for my brother because even when we disagree we soon erupt in laughter. "Mom used to make these kinds of jokes so I feel like it gave us license to do the same," he told me. True. After my mom lost her friend Paula after a trip to Europe, she told my friend David about it. After many dark anecdotes, David darkly quipped: "She's dead already!" Mom howled.

Mom and I used to send cards and letters, but that was cut back on her end once I got to London. I was therefore elated to find many, many such mementos in my storage locker. On July 25, 2001 she wrote: "Hi Peach: It's hard for me to believe you're a Conn. resident. Hope all is well with you - personally and professionally. I am very proud of you, in a humble way. You go girl! Love 💜 Mom."