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Tomorrow is April 27, 2006.

April 27, 1989, my mother lost her battle with Breast Cancer, after losing a breast, her hair, and most of my childhood.

So today, the day before, I wonder how I should feel, really. Usually on this day I do one of a few things:
Totally ignore the day
Act like an asshole all day
Get depressed as all hell
Honor my mother and her memory but remembering why I love her
Admittedly, that last one is the hardest. And it will be this year, since my father is still with us.

The deathday is a hard thing. Everyday I feel the loss, I feel the void where she isn't, I see the look in my daughters eyes that should be filled with their grandmother. But how should I be on this day? Should I prepare for it? Should I walk on glass everyday? Should I finally get over it, and move on with my life.

Well duh. Even I know that answer.

***********************************************

Quiet questing eyes shut closed by
some type of unknowing we cannot bear to hold.
Seconds removed from minutes, days which
danced away from us, the time we
didn't recognize as that we'd regret.

Your years were lived in those eyes, wise
old soul clothed in a child, pending, waiting
remembering.

I know you without knowing. I see
my children running through you, around you
imps on the air you sift through
words and thoughts theybring you closer.

Words become lessened with
speechless hurts.

You teach us well. We watch your eyes in sleep.

There is a huge gap between "knowing" and feeling. No two people grieve the same way and no one else can tell you what to feel.

But you know all that too.

I lost my adopted dad, my birth mom, and my sons' dad all to cancer and now my daughter is sick. It's an evil disease.

Take care of yourself, please and whatever you need to do, do it.

How about get roaringly drunk and sing her songs at the top of your lungs?

I'm very sorry her loss is still affecting you this much. I lost my mother to mental illness a long time ago. The only way I can cope with her is to keep her at arms length. I cannot even speak with her on the phone because she sucks me into her world.

Take care today.

Sorry to hear about that. I can't sympathize though, because I have both my parents alive.

My mother has stage 3 breast cancer... I hear you.

I'll be keeping you in my thoughts xx

I'm sorry you're going through this. It's hard. :-(

*HUG!!!!*

I'm sorry, Dor. Just let us know whatever ya need. We're here for ya, babe.

Hugs from Sweden.
Keep the memory alive, and cherish it, but carry on and try to be upbeat - yeah, I know; easier said than done.

Keep up the great work on your blog. Very nice.

Planning on getting roaring drunk next weekend. Me drunk when sad is NOT a good mix.

Thank you for the support everyone. It was nice to see the comments this morning.

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