Today marks two months since my mom passed.
Even writing that feels strange. Heavy. Final in a way I still don’t fully understand.
Grief doesn’t move in a straight line. It never does. Mine has felt complicated — which makes sense, because our relationship was complicated.
There was love. There were things said and not said. There were wounds. There were real moments. And there was distance, too.
I’ve spent these weeks since her passing going over so many memories in my mind.
Some I hold close. The ones that still make me smile.
Others come back that I would rather forget. The hard ones. The unfinished ones.
It’s all there. Missing her. Love. Hurt. Anger. Resentment. Sadness. And, if I’m being totally honest, even moments of relief — which bring their own layer of guilt.
And then there are the small, almost silly things grief brings up. Like remembering my childhood phone number without hesitation. It lives somewhere deep in me, untouched by time.
Why that? Of all things.
Grief mixes everything together. It pulls up moments you haven’t thought about in decades. It makes you ten years old again, sitting on the living room floor, holding your new puppy, Bamboo. It asks you to look at the whole story, and not just the easy parts.
Two months in, I don’t have all the answers, I just know that complicated love doesn’t disappear because someone passes.
It changes shape. It settles in new places. It lives on in memories — the beautiful ones, the painful ones, and yes… even in old phone numbers we still remember.
Do you still remember your childhood phone number?
#grief #twomonths #relationships #complicatedlove #guilt #memories #mentalhealth
YouAreEnough 