No Title Today

I have a list of drafted topics that I have yet to finish writing. I don't necessarily have one thing I have set out to share. I may honestly be procrastinating; I have a research paper due this evening. I am just about done.
I am on drink #2 and would like to type something other than information about The Industrial Revolution, while it is interesting and well written (if I do say so myself), I am over it. Ruby is yelling at the dog because he is barking at one of the neighborhood strays, I am trying to listen to music over the sound of cartoons, and should be making dinner.
I just celebrated my birthday and that always has me feeling nostalgic. Optimism for the future and criticism for every moment that has passed. I lost my mom a couple months before my 21st birthday and that hole she left only gets larger. I find myself regretting this said and done between the two of us and even more so, missing all of the inside jokes and outbursts of laughter. It is very difficult to describe my mother in one word. I miss her soft skin. I miss her "harsh" jokes. I dated a guy one time and he found my mother's sense of humor to be "harsh." It is a term that has always stuck with my sister and I. She didn't take shit and she knew how to give it back in the best of ways. I'll never forget the first time she said the "F" word in front of me. I about died with laughter and she was in disbelief, that this word had slipped out. I was a sophomore in high school.
I miss her on my birthday and I miss her on Christmas, and every day in between. I miss calling her just to shoot the shit, we would call each other when bored or sad, or happy, confused, or angry. She would have loved the term hangry! We went out to a favorite restaurant when I was in elementary school. The waitress, whom we had known for my entire life... She leaned over the table to me and said in her highest pitched, cheesiest voice, "are you having a special day with mommy?" (excuse my lack of grammatical care, this semester is almost over and I don't care). My mom had a really hard time filtering her facial expressions. I am laughing as I think back to this because it was too much. I looked at her, mistake 1. I can still feel my chest fill with air, trying to fight the explosive laughter; I can feel my eyes begin to water because I knew what was to come. These moments happened to us all of the time, when my sister was with us, it just became intolerable.
As soon as this server turned the corner... tears, laughter, and I am so sure of strange sounds...
I think it was so funny because we were not raised with a mushy type of love.... there was A LOT of love that she gave to us. There was also a lot of eye opening lessons taught, figure it out or drown type of lessons.
I remember one of the first times I really realized my mom was a gangster (as put by my dad when describing her on their honeymoon). I was in high school and we were fighting about something, we were good at that. We were very similar and that had its ups and downs. I think I may have called her a bitch or something; I began to make my way to my room which was in the basement and the kitchen somewhat overlooked the staircase. Before I could realize what was happening I felt something fly past my head.... WTF? It was a ceramic dinner plate or a canned vegetable, I don't recall. Thankfully she wasn't an athlete or it may have it, it was close, I know it was. I swiftly made my way downstairs as a can hit the wall above me... broke the freaking drywall. She was not one to mess with.
I apologize for the long winded stories but I am enjoying the moment. They say to live the moments so not to ever forget.
Her love and her loss transcends into my family and the choices in raising our daughter. I cherish the positive aspects of our relationship and hold the negative close. Losing your mother is one of those life situations that you don't plan for. You think it will always be when you are in your 60's or whatever. I can't sit here and say that I think I have handled her death in any specific way; I think that you handle death however you have to and those methods change, grow, and regress. If you have lost your mama, I am sorry. The emotions involved in grief are awful. I still relive the phone call, the moments following, and search for the moments that I have blacked out. A piece of my life is gone.
Her body is gone, her spirit and soul are not. When we got to the hospital the Chaplin told us that her time of death was 4:19pm. On my birthday my phone alerted at exactly 4:19pm, with no message, email, or whatever. I have no doubt that was her. She is in my dreams, my heart, and my daughter.
My mom had adopted this belief that we all choose our lives before our souls are put here. It is something that I had a hard time wrapping my head around first. Now, it's like, "yeah, maybe." What if I was put in this body with my family, friends, triumphs, and losses?
What if I decided to be a 20 year old that loses her mom? What if I chose to have a severely disabled sister? Did I choose these things because I knew my soul would grow and flourish because of it? My daughter benefits in ways that others may not, because of my loss; because of the love that soul holds?
Her thought has helped me cope and maybe it will help you or someone in your life.
I guess I needed to talk about my mom... My topic chose itself quickly.
With Love.