I wish i could dance with my mom. It would make her so happy.
Sometimes she'd grab my wrists and just start dancing wildly with me, her own kind of cumbia, i guess. And she'd make the "chka chka chka" rhythm through her teeth and i would laugh or protest, depending on the mood i was in.
I wish i could grab her arms in the kitchen right now and dance with her and laugh with her.
I danced with my bird and that had to suffice.
Sometimes i pretend that Sandy is my mother, reincarnated. Or that my mom left her here for me. They met but never got to know each other. I think my mom died about a week after Sandy arrived. Or maybe less.

I realized today that riding down West End doesn't make me cry the way it used to last year. The memories of taking my mom to NYP Cornell aren't at the front of my mind anymore. Yet driving down the West Side Highway still hurts because it looks so beautiful, with the foliage and the new bike and running paths. It hurts that i can't show them to my mom.
And the new station entrance at 96th street hurts because it would have been so convenient for my mom, also an easy place for us to meet.
But the 59th street 8th avenue line doesn't hurt the way it used to last year, the memories of rushing to see mom at Mt. Sinai.
The most recent memories, the horrors from the hospital are fading now. Not that i want to hold onto those nightmares anyway. The 1,2,3 platform at 96th street no longer terrifies me as i remember going to and fro Harlem Hospital in those horrible first days. Now i'm just sad that she's not there with me.

I'm not as haunted by the traumatic and ugly moments as i am by the fact that my mom is, 13 months later, still dead. Never to come back or see me again.

Will i be healed when every single block in New York finally stops breaking my heart and no longer flashes the words "she was here but she died."

I don't know what to do with the sadness anymore. Dr. H would always say, "just feel it." I think i forgot how to cry. It doesn't happen often, hasn't happened in about a month, at least not a good cry. I'm afraid i'm bottling it up. Or worse, i'm afraid i'll get to a point where i feel nothing.
I can barely be bothered to write in here anymore.

"I wanna go home," i said out loud as i was pouring the hot water for my tea. Standing in the kitchen, i just wanted to go home. What does that mean, i asked myself. I was already home, technically. It means being quiet and not thinking and not feeling and not doing anything. I just want to close my eyes and not be anywhere.

Another day, another dollar.
I have to force myself to go out in the sun daily. I have to sit out in the sun and try to force the life into me.

This is a low low but i know i'll bounce back up at some point. I just don't want people, like my family, to tell me to get over it or snap out of it.

still sad

I was nervous about the one year anniversary. I was nervous that i wouldn't honor my mom in the right way, that the day wouldn't bear the significance that i wanted it to. I guess i was also afraid of what an anniversary might mean. Maybe it would signify a close, an end to this experience, shutting the door on a whole new way of seeing my life. I knew that my obsession with April 1st was irrational but i couldn't convince myself that it was just a date like any other date. I mean, it wasn't irrational, it was emotional. I'm afraid of what 2 years later and 3 years later will mean. Will it get better? And if it gets better, what does that mean? Or is it like a spiral, going around and around every time. AprilMayJuneJulyAugustSeptemberOctoberNovemberDecemberJanuaryFebruaryMarchApril...
I'm afraid of forgetting. I've observed from my family members who have already been through this that they don't forget but i can't get that into my head. I'm afraid of what distance will feel like.

Today i went to the D'Agostino on Broadway and 110th, after work. I still hate that corner. I thought that as i waited for the bus. That corner has so much of my mom's presence, so many times, so much time spent within just a few blocks. Vitamin Shoppe, Rite Aid, West Side Market, D'Agostino, those four corners that mom went to so often.
I hate Broadway and 110th street. I almost always cry when i stand on the northeast corner, waiting for the bus.

Today at work was good. I was happy, talking about my trip and answering questions. I was fine. But going to lunch sucked because i missed my mom as i walked by myself to the market for food, and after work sucked as well. I realized that just as i guessed (and probably hoped) a year has not diminished my loss or the depth of my pain. I can go longer periods of time without crying or feeling utter pain, but the hole is always there. And when i take a moment to feel it, it's still gut wrenching. That punch in the stomach, it has not gone away.

Sometimes it feels worse and not better. But i don't want that anyway. People say it gets better with time. Some people have told me it feels different after a while, still sad but different. I believe that. I don't like to think of it as better. I will never feel better.

And on top of still having a moment of shock at the thought of my mother dying of cancer, i miss her in new ways all the time. So that feels worse. It's like there are more moments of missing her because it's been so long since i heard her voice.

I felt a lot of warmth and support in Bogota, but i felt so horrible coming back, knowing nobody would be waiting for me. Well, not nobody. That my mom wouldn't be home for me to call her and let her know i arrived or to welcome me home and help me with my bags.
I remember the time she met me at the airport when i came back from L.A. I was mad at her because she was late, and she told me she'd taken a long time to leave the apartment after i'd called her to let her know when i'd be there.

Being sad sucks because it hurts. I know it's normal but it feels not good. I don't want to stop thinking about or missing my mom, but i don't enjoy hurting. I've never felt such heartbreak.

Maybe you get used to it, maybe that's what people mean. I suppose i could get used to it but still miss my mom and feel sad about her.

I wish i could still call her from a store like the supermarket and ask her if she wants anything and tell her what i'm buying and tell her about my day.

new york to bogota

hey, i'm still 33 and this time i'm the one who went from new york to bogota.
I just realized that right now.
The trip was great and it felt like much more than 8 days. I was constantly surrounded by warmth and love and family and home. Bonding with people i don't know but with whom i just fit in perfectly. That was pretty remarkable.
Also remarkable was that it's possible to experience joy and mirth and really fucking intense pain at the same time. I was thrilled to visit churches on Holy Thursday/mom's anniversary and join in the tradition of faith of hundreds of people in the street. But it hurt so much that my mom was not there.
That was one of the themes for my trip: my mom was missing. Everything i did was a little less "blank" because my mom wasn't there.
And i cried at the beginning and the end of the trip, but in between i'd have these moments of realization where i felt like i got punched REALLY hard in the stomach and i'd always curse in my mind like, FUCK this really hurts. I'm constantly, continuously astounded by the amount of pain i feel and can tolerate.

My heart wrenched to see all of the new and exciting stuff in Bogota that my mom didn't get to see, but it was also somewhat comforting that i didn't have to relive too many memories painfully because there wasn't that much that i could remember from our trip there 19 years ago. In a way it's good when a place is new because it doesn't completely signify my mom. Although, like Dr. H. says, she will always be there, because she's always on my mind and in my heart.

I can't wait for fight club on Tuesday.
I cried myself to sleep last night. I feel a whole new wave of crying coming on for this month.

P.S. what the fuck is up with tearjerker movies on the airplane? 2 on the same flight? First "Everybody's Fine" which slayed me, again, followed by fucking "Hachi?" Are they kidding? I was so mad, but obviously really into the movies. yeah, crying on a plane has always been my dream.
Actually...i have had that dream.

It was a bad week. A tough week. March into April is rough!
I'm grateful that i was able to get through my passport appointment and got it together enough to make the passport happen.
I'm grateful that i made it to Friday, after such a hard week. I'm grateful that i felt better at work after crying the whole night and day before getting to work at 2:30pm.
I'm grateful for my ability and opportunity to look for answers.
I'm grateful for encouragement and knowing that even though it's gonna hurt like hell, my family and friends will hold me up and be there for me when i come out the other side.

Just heard on NPR that Garmin makes a GPS where you can record your own voice and then it mixes it up so that your voice gives the directions.
Is it creepy that i tried to remember how much of my mom's voice i have recorded so that i could put it into a similar program or device and have my mom talk to me?

Unfortunately the truth is i don't have very much of a recording. Oh, i do have those voicemails at work that i haven't figured out how to get off of my phone. Gotta figure that out. There are some really funny voicemails from mom and there are the really sad ones of my mom getting sicker and sicker, from each of the hospital rooms she stayed at.
As much as i'm trying not to make a big deal out of the 1 year anniversary, i realize that i'm constantly checking the countdown in my mind. T minus... and counting.
Why do i feel she's not dead yet? That after April 1st she will be dead, but not yet. Will the second year feel that way, too? Am i going to be stuck in pre-April 1st, 2009, 2:26pm forever? No, not forever, obviously. Nothing lasts forever for me. But for a while? Years?

ETA: Speech synthesis. Like what the Scottish company did to help Roger Ebert speak. Hmmm.

Success!

The head has been shaved. I raised more money than i ever imagined i would.
It was a great night. I'm still overwhelmed by the support of my family and friends. Plus major adrenaline rush.
I need to start sleeping like a normal person soon. I'm so wired.
So far, it's nice to not have to pull my hair back to wash my face.
I wish my mom could touch my head.

grateful

I have known good people my whole life.
There are so many individuals who have been kind to me, who have encouraged me, who have shown me warmth and given me love.
I am so lucky.
I tend to become too afraid of doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing, so i don't feel like i express my appreciation the way i ought to.

Kristeen sings lyrics i just adore:

He implies. He refrains.
He plays kiss-SLAP with a phrase.
His small talk’s a Work of Art.
Those Brit boys love their discourse.
Me? I just want to scream, “OH, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!!”

~He's Sickened By My Crude Emotion

I want to scream i love you and i want to scream thank you. I've screwed up in my life but those doors keep opening for me. I want to thank everybody i can remember, for as far back as i can remember.
I bawled my eyes out over the weekend and i feel a lot of sadness and hurt but at the SAME TIME i feel fortunate. Everywhere i look there is a blessing. I know i've had way more than my share of good people in my life.
It's actually overwhelming. I start wanting to pray again. Please help me do the right thing with all of the love that i keep getting. Please help me to not be afraid.
I want to be awake.