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La Frog

10 januari, 2011

Some years it hurts more

I think about my mom all the time nowadays. I dream about her and everything around me reminds me off her. Sometimes I even think I see her on the street ore in the store ore were ever. I guess it's true what my aunt said. That it's more difficult for us through the month of January. First Christmas - the holiday that mom and gran liked most of all in the family. And then New years eve - when I was obligated to give mom a call at midnight no matter what.
And then January. When January comes sneaking up on us we're already a bit low due to all the memories and the lack of our loved ones on those holidays that you should spend with Them! Yes, then January.
With the 14th of January it's my oldest little brothers birthday.
The 14th of January is also the date of the day my mother died in the year of 2004.
On the 15th of January we usually celebrate my bothers birthday. He kind of change the date after mom died.
That is also Jonas <3 birthday (no shadows hanging over there).
And then there is the 30th of January. The day my gran died in the year of 2003. Almost precisely to the day a year before my mom.
It's in our bones, my aunt said. We know it's getting closer to the days when a hole nother year has past since they died. January is Hell.

I had / have a really complex relationship with my mom. She had hell trying to do what was best for one child without hurting the other to pieces and vice versa. Today- looking back- I think that her biggest mistake when trying to save the feelings of the other parts of the family, was all the secrets. Her goal (I guess) was to keep the half of the family who didn't know the secrets in the dark for their sanity. It kind of backfired a bit when the "clueless" couldn't get why the others lost there tempers at times for no obvious reason and were so full of hatred so many times and stuff like that. I have a lot to be mad about with my mom. Maybe I hadn't turned out so chaotic inside if she'd just stopped trying to spare half of us from all and everything, and in consequent of that leaving the other half of us like casseroles with boiling tar under strictly guarded lids. Of course the lids flew off all the way to Mars soon after her death. No more secrets! was my aunts first command after that.
So my feelings for my mom are complexed. I hate her for putting ducked tape over my mouth (metaphoricly speaking) when I needed to shout. I hate her for not being a Supermom and chase the bad stuff away to where the sun don't shine. I hate my mom for looking at me with some kind of mixed disgust when I apparently were a bit to much like my father. And while we're on the subject of him I hate him for not being strong enough to stay away from his addictions so he could've stayed on as the sweet loving father that gran always told me he was.
But in all this hatred I still miss my mom. I still love her. She put me through hell and indirectly she made me think that All was my fault. But I love her.
Little pieces of memories that went gone when I got zombied (total apathy is the more clinical term that they used in the looney) is starting to remind themselves again. My gran used to sit by my side in my bed and tell me little things that me and mom used to do when I was a toddler.
She would take my hand and then we'd run for the nearest puddle and just right in it with as much force we could come up with. Water splashing all over.
She would take me exploring the playgrounds in our area. But while other moms stayed on the benches watching there children, my mom went in there with as much enthusiasm as all the other kids and played with me.
Whenever there was a thunderstorm mom popped some popcorn, picked up a book and inbedded me in the middle of her big king size bed as she cuddled up next to me to read me the story. I think she might have planned the hole thing up just to give me a new association with thunderstorms instead of my usual crying of fear and panic.
I would give anything to be able to cuddle up with my mom during the next thunderstorm. Eating popcorn and listening to the story she reads me.
And to ask her all these questions that are hovering me.
Why did you make those decisions? Did it really turn out as you expected?
Did you ever realise how much you were hurting me? By doing close to nothing to make me be able to live with it all. You instead made me believe that everything was my fault by keeping everything secret. And punishing me when I let it slip out to a friend.
And what do you think of my Jonas <3??
What's the recipe for that casserole that you hated to cook because it took hours!

But most of all I just want her to hug me again. Hold me in her arms and let me breath in her scent again. That scent is still the one with the most magic on me - calm.

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