First off, just let me take a moment here and thank all of you who sent me good wishes and good vibes on the topic of my "workiversary" that I reached this past week. I'm grateful to have so many well-wishers, and I'm happy that we have so many readers. You're good people.
Now, as long as we're talking anniversaries here, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that it has now been one full year since my mom passed away. My apologies if the next statement doesn't make sense, but I both can and cannot believe it's been that long already. So much of it still feels so real to me, like it just happened yesterday, and yet so much happened in the aftermath that I can only realize that, yes, time has continued to go on.
It feels like yesterday because of so many things that I vividly remember. I can remember making those drives up Highway 219 to get to the city. I can remember making my way over to the university hospital and trying to find a spot to park. I can remember how the hallways were configured, the waiting area downstairs, and the late nights spent with Mom. Her laying there, me beside her, just speaking to her. Letting her know that we're okay, and that she was a fighter in every sense of the word. Finally, I can remember what the time on the clock was saying after Mom had given her last breath - 3:30 AM.
On the flip side of that coin, the immediate aftermath feels like so long ago. Am I making any sense here? People stopping in at the house, gifting us with enough incredible food to feed a small army, giving their condolences, sharing a fond memory or two. We loved hearing all of it. Then there was the viewing of Mom at the funeral home, which brought out the whole family. Such a service certainly isn't for everyone, but I was looking forward to it because I knew Mom would look her best, and she did.
To me, that immediate aftermath feels like it took place a long time ago because of how far we've come in the past year, whether it's from an emotional perspective or otherwise.
Mourning can be an odd thing, and I think how or even when a person mourns will vary from person to person. I say this because I went through what I can only describe as a "delayed after-effect" later in the year. You see, Mom passed away with just a few days left in March, so the month of April was comprised of lots of family visits and memories of her, the viewing that I previously mentioned, lots of discussion about the funeral service, and lots of very thoughtful and kind-hearted people stopping by to drop off a lasagna, spaghetti, a ham, a cake, or any other item on a rotating list of culinary delights. In a way, April was just a blur.
Then May came along, and I'd say that was when I got back down to business and threw myself back into my work. Why not, right? It was finally spring, things were greening up, and the sun was shining every day.
Before we knew it, it was June, and then it felt like we all blinked once or twice and it was July. Summer has a way of just rocketing by, doesn't it? Soon enough, it was the end of July, and both my brother Brendon and I were set to start our summer vacations from our respective workplaces. As soon as I was done work, I got home and prepped the steaks before grilling them, and we sat down to a great kickoff meal to start our summer break. The next day, we packed up and hit the road, bound for Candle Lake. Great drive, and it always relaxes me. We parked at Waskateena Beach, got out, and sat in our lawn chairs on the beach, enjoying some sunny rays.
And that's when I felt it wash over me. I was sitting there in my chair, right beside Brendon, and a storm just creeped up inside my mind. This sense of heartache, longing, anger, sadness, and emptiness all rolled into one nagging, can't-dodge-it feeling. There we have it, that delayed grief and mourning. It arrived at the worst possible time and at the worst possible place. I did my best to shake it, but I just couldn't do it. For the rest of my summer break, I was just on autopilot from a physical standpoint. The same goes for basically the rest of August, even after returning to work. It wasn't until I had a heart-to-heart with my coworker that made me see the proverbial forest through the trees. But man, I NEVER want to feel that feeling again. If any of you met me or talked to me at all in the month of August and felt something was off, that's because it was.
Today though, I can look back on that period now and say that I've improved. I can also look back on my mom's life and smile. I can remember back to times when she showed her strength, her resolve, her tenderness, her humour, her personality, and her spirit. I can remember moments in my life when I wasn't doing so well, or things weren't turning out the way I hoped they would, and all it would take was a few loving words from her to put things in perspective and give me something new to stride for.
I hate the way she left this earth, and I hate how unfair things turned out for her in the end, but there's no sense dwelling on that stuff now. It's already happened, it's already in the past, and time doesn't stop for anyone or anything. All we can do is move forward. There are things that I'm excited about right now as far as my immediate future goes, and I'm looking forward to all of it. I'm excited about the opportunity to right a wrong and redo my summer vacation with a much more positive and upbeat attitude.
When I think of my mom today, all I do is smile, and I know that I always will. She knew how to produce smiles in all of us who she loved. That's the mark of a very unique and gifted person, and those were traits that my mom definitely had in spades.
Reader, I hope you smile when you think of your mom, too.
For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.
