It's Thursday night, midnight and I've had the hardest two weeks in my life. I flew out to the Philippines on Friday, the 8th of July. My mother passed away. She has had complications with diabetes for sometime now and died from pulmonary heart failure. She was 60.
I'm not sure why I am even writing this in my blog. It's something so personal. I guess I just need to write it, document it somehow.
I thought I would be better by now. I thought New York and being at work would make things feel normal again. I guess things don't really go back to normal though.
Lately, I've just kinda been numb. I'm weirded out by co-workers who are concern and ask me typical questions on how I am doing. I tell them that I am fine; I'm not sure what exactly I should say or what they want to hear.
The funeral and wake were difficult to handle in a country where my memories with my mother weren't made or even really shared. We lived in New York for almost 20 years. It was only three years ago she left to retire to the Philippines. I guess I felt like I should have stopped her from leaving, like telling her that the medical attention was better here, just something, maybe to prevent her from getting sicker and leaving. I know deep down somewhere I keep feeling like I didn't do enough. And I know that at the same time I should be practical and realize what I keep telling myself---that it wasn't my fault or anyone else's. But it's hard.
I know she is better now. I know that she isn't suffering anymore. I just really miss her.
I'm not sure why I am even writing this in my blog. It's something so personal. I guess I just need to write it, document it somehow.
I thought I would be better by now. I thought New York and being at work would make things feel normal again. I guess things don't really go back to normal though.
Lately, I've just kinda been numb. I'm weirded out by co-workers who are concern and ask me typical questions on how I am doing. I tell them that I am fine; I'm not sure what exactly I should say or what they want to hear.
The funeral and wake were difficult to handle in a country where my memories with my mother weren't made or even really shared. We lived in New York for almost 20 years. It was only three years ago she left to retire to the Philippines. I guess I felt like I should have stopped her from leaving, like telling her that the medical attention was better here, just something, maybe to prevent her from getting sicker and leaving. I know deep down somewhere I keep feeling like I didn't do enough. And I know that at the same time I should be practical and realize what I keep telling myself---that it wasn't my fault or anyone else's. But it's hard.
I know she is better now. I know that she isn't suffering anymore. I just really miss her.
Enjoy your memories of her.