I was going to post this tomorrow, but then I realized that I'm going to spend as little time in front of my computer as possible tomorrow, so now's the time to post.

Tomorrow is USian Mother's Day.

For me, it's been awful, listening to the ads encouraging me to buy something for my mother. "She's fucking dead," I tell the dude on the radio, wanting me to get the flowers I've bought for her for the last three years. He doesn't listen and continues to prattle on about deadlines for ordering flowers to be delivered out of state.

It hurts.

Life has pretty much sucked recently. The estate lawyer we hired, a family friend who's known me since I was born, has done nothing since we hired her. As a result, I have one brother who became very angry at me, another brother who's tried like hell to get something to happen with the estate, and me, getting more and more angry at the universe.

On top of the family stuff, there's work, one deadline after another since I got back from North Carolina in February. Finally, those deadlines are over, and I have permission to take some time for myself.

So, following the lead of Bob "Trailblazer" Abooey, I gathered up the dogs and went to the Fells.

just continues to shit on my family.

Incoherent ranting and whinging inside.

Quite busy, but good.

Inside: New stuff. New dog training. New recipe. New soap.

That is, more or less, what I told ana this morning. My throat closed up when I tried to explain why. All memories are painful. Even the ones that shouldn't be.

Ana said I'd probably write a diary about today. So I guess I should.

I cried a lot, but I cooked a damn good meal¹.

Details within.

¹According to ana, that is. Many, many thanks to BadDoggie for suggestions and a recipe.

-Hi, toxicfur. How are you getting along?
-90% of the time, I'm really fucking shitty.
-Oh. Er.
-No, that's an improvement. Really. Have a great day.

That's the conversation I wish I could have. Instead, I watch the tilt of the head, and I know the speaker is feeling empathy or at least making an effort to pretend, and I say that I'm fine, or I'm doing okay, or I'm hanging in there, or some other such platitude. People rarely want an authentic answer when they say, "How are you, really?" Sometimes, I forget and answer a little too honestly, and the discomfort is palpable.

It's been building for a while. The tension has increased, partly because of work stuff and partly because of family stuff. The loss has become more tangible. Today, in church, I barely held it together through a hymn I remembered both my mom and grandmother enjoying. A friend offered his condolences, and I began to shake, not quite holding back the tears.

Then I got home.

Today is the first Wednesday I've been home since my mom died. Wednesday is the day I always called her at 8:00pm. If I didn't call on time, she worried. If I called on a different day, it was because I had something to tell her or ask her. Wednesdays were our day to catch up and just talk about our lives. Tonight, I really, really miss my mom.

Inside, other reasons the day sucks. Also, I need some advice (skip down to the end for the question).

Thank you.

Also, random thoughts about the last six weeks.