Yesterday I read my mom’s blog.

Don’t start putting me down, saying I shouldn’t have read it. It’s been in my RSS reader for a long time, and I have waited a long time – I see it every day (especially since I divided everything up into folders and it’s the only that doesn’t belong anywhere).

So yesterday I read it. I wanted to hear my mom’s voice.

And I did.

But I haven’t stopped crying since then. Literally.

I cried at work.

I cried in the car.

I cried at the gas station.

I didn’t cry on the train, but I probably should have. (My eyes are a gorgeous green when I cry, and there was a really hot guy sitting behind me. Like I tweeted, he was too close to take a picture of, too far to hit on. FLIRT FAIL!)

I cried at the restaurant.

I cried at the grocery store (which was special – how many people cry at the sight of cereal?)

I cried in bed.

I cried in the bathroom.

I cried on the phone to my dad (who asked me why I didn’t come to him – I love him so much).

I’m crying now (good thing I type blind/touch type).

I cried in the shower.

At least I think I did – there was water involved, after all.

I cried to my friend (which makes me feel horrible to the point where I almost stop being friends with someone out of sheer embarassment, and you don’t have to tell me that that’s what friends are for because I already know, but it doesn’t make me any more comfortable doing it).

(Sorry for ending the sentence with a preposition.)

And I just can’t stop crying.

Seriously, I’ve cried so much that if crying made you lose weight, I would be sexy as all hell right now.

(Then, knowing me, I’d cry some more because my clothes would all be too big on me and I’d have to go shopping, which I hate.)

But I couldn’t NOT read the blog, and I think I was hoping that by reading it, it would trigger that breakdown that is supposed to happen, but hasn’t happened yet.

So the flood gates have officially opened, but I’m not feeling better, and I know that I don’t get it. I don’t get that my mom is gone.

My brain knows, but my heart hasn’t yet accepted it. I’m not sure how to express this thought, but I’ll try. When I think of my mom (mostly when I’m alone in the car or in bed), my head knows she won’t be there for all those major life events (wedding, kids, etc.) Those, at the moment, are easier to accept, because they are far away (I realize I’m 31, but since I’m single, they seem very far away).

But when I think that she won’t hug me or kiss me or tell me she’s proud of me anymore, that’s when it dawns on me: It hasn’t dawned on me. I just don’t get it.

And knowing I don’t get it makes it even more frustrating. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to fall. For the last few months before she died, “the other shoe” was her dying. And then it happened. And my logical and grammatically correct thinking said, “The other shoe implies there are only two shoes, and that this was the second, so we’re done.” So my logical and grammatically correct thinking is having trouble processing this latest shoe.

So I was hoping reading her blog would trigger it, but it hasn’t so far. Looked up, no shoes are falling.

I’m not sure who it is that will make that third shoe drop, but if it could be a pair of really nice brown boots, I would appreciate it.

Also, a warning to get out of its way would be appreciated.

For the record, if tears equalled weight loss, I would have lost about 7 lbs during the writing of this post.

For the past couple of days, I have been trying to make a difficult decision. This isn’t the first difficult decision I’ve made at all – I’ve moved continents, I’ve left jobs that I’ve loved to advance my career, and I’ve dumped friends. Generally speaking, I am a very private person, and I very rarely share my feelings and thoughts with others, be they friends or family.

My family is very close. My sisters told my mom everything – probably more than she wanted to hear. 🙂 I never did. I think when I was growing up she took it personally, but then she accepted that it’s just who I am.

Nonetheless, whenever I was at the “I’m-about-to-explode-because-I-honestly-don’t-know-what-to-do” stage, I would go to her, because even though I never told her much, somehow she just knew me.

Which kinda pissed me off, but kinda made me happy at the same time.

Since yesterday, this decision that I have to make has been making its rounds through my brain, especially during quiet times (car ride to and from work, just before I fall asleep, and bathroom breaks). And last night I suddenly realized:

Nobody knows me anymore.

I realize it’s my fault – I’m incapable of sharing everything about me with anyone. My friends would love for me to share or ask for their advice (which I do, but not for decisions such as these for the most part), but they’ve only known me for a fairly short amount of time.

How is someone supposed to know me as well as someone who knew me for 31 years?

My mom had been unable to talk since December, so effectively any advice she could have given at that point was limited to yes and no. Come the end of January or beginning of February, she was rarely lucid – and then not at all. So you’d think this would have hit me a couple months ago.

But I guess, even though it was clear that there was zero hope, somewhere in the back of my mind, I guess I refused to believe it was over until it was over.

And now I’m stuck, needing to make this decision, not knowing how I’m going to make it, even though I have amazing friends who give great advice.

Because nobody knows me anymore.

Update: It seems my dad does know me. He gave me advice I wasn’t expecting. Go, dad.