DEATH: That 'It Gets Easier' Bullshit Isn't Really True [TMI]

my mom Marcia

So this shit has nothing to do with Park Slope...or BK. It has to do with me. And it may very well be TMI, so if you think you wanna keep shit strictly Park Slope-y between us, move right along.

That's a pic of my mom Marcia above. She was funny as all get out, and fun, and smiley, but also seriously sarcastic. She was the captain of the boy's football team in 7th grade (and the only girl in the history of the school that they ever let play on the boys team). In 8th grade, Candid Camera came to her school and picked her and her boyfriend to be in a segment they were doing cause they were the most popular kids at her middle school. She used to be a hippie, and we lived in Woodstock until I was about 3. She was super creative, did amazing embroidery back in the day, and loved, loved, loved TV and a killer meal.

3 years ago today she died.

She was 55, and died of cancer (multiple myeloma, which turned into plasma cell leukemia).

And yeah: that totally fucking sucked/sucks.

And though I'm ok now, and, thankfully, never let it spin my life out of control (as I easily could have), I gotta say that this whole "it gets easier with time" bullshit they tell you isn't really true at all.

I mean yeah: I'm not crying in the shower everyday anymore (which I did for about 3 mos after my mom died...not sure why, except that I guess the shower is one of the few places we are totally and completely alone. And also you don't  have much else to think about in there except for all of the stuff that is weighing on your mind). It's possible for me to talk about her now without bursting into tears, so yeah: I guess if you are measuring that shit alone, then its gotten a bit easier.

But in a lot of ways, I actually feel like this all gets way HARDER to deal with as time goes on, not easier. Like when she died, I obviously knew that meant she wouldn't be around anymore. But I didn't *really* connect all the dots somehow.

And this sounds weird to say (and write) because yeah: I'm not retarded. I know what "dead" means, but its like there a million little things that you just don't think about at the time that sneak up on you:

• she'll never call me on my birthday again.
• she won't be watching the new season of Big Brother with me and calling me the next day to talk about all the morons on the show.
• She'll never know what an iPhone is.
• she'll never see my apartment...or be able to reassure me that the marble in the kitchen WAS a good idea after all.
• She won't be around to tell me that that my horrible new haircut "looks kinda cute!"
• she won't be around to remind me that I need to be the bigger one with my brother and sister cause I'm the oldest.
• if I ever get a book published, she won't read it. If I ever write a tv show, she won't see it.

It sounds silly, but there are like a MILLION fucking things I could put on this list. And sometimes it feels like a trillion. I mean: think of all the times you just need your mom. You need to talk to her, or bitch at her, or yell at her, or prove something to her, and yeah....that ain't happenin for me anymore. And that's a tough fucking pill to swallow.

And, I'm absolutely/positively not writing this now b/c I'm looking for sympathy. I don't play those 'WHY ME!!?' games because they're not productive and they don't get you anywhere.  I'm clearly not the first person who's had someone they love die too young, and, unfortunately, I won't be the last. But I also think its important to be honest about how this shit actually works, and having gone through it, I can offer up a few tips:

• Whatever you've heard/seen/been told about dealing with grief: forget it. Everyone has their own experience...and yours could be entirely different from mine, top to bottom. So just get through it in whatever way is gonna work for you. Whatever that looks like, be ok with it.
• Talk to a shrink. Seriously. I don't care who you are, or what you do, losing a parent (or loved one) at such a young age is tough shit to deal with, and you'll need the help of someone who knows what the fuck they are talking about. After my mom died, Greg actually called my shrink FOR ME. He made the appt and offered to come with me, and despite the fact that I didn't feel like dealing at the time, I'm glad I did.
• Don't expect shit to get easier...at least for a long time. Yes, you *will* cry less as time passes, and life will go on, but also some stuff will always kinda suck now. It blows, but honestly that's just the truth. Your life is different, and you WILL be ok, and you will figure out ways to make things richer, and you will be better for having gone through all of this, but if you are waiting to start feeling like "phew, I'm on easy street now!" you're gonna be waiting a really long ass time. It just doesn't work like that (at least not for me). Note: I'm not saying you will never be happy again, or feel good again, I'm just saying that I kept waiting for this "its easier!" time to wash over me like a wave, and it hasn't yet.
• Be prepared for shit to get bad, AFTER the funeral. The day my mom died, the funeral, etc--I was completely numb. I was in some sort of in between space where I was just alive and breathing, but not really dealing with anything that was happening. But once that's all over, and your family goes home, and things get quiet, that's when things really hit you. And its surprising, b/c you almost feel like you're kind of doing ok with things...until you realize: whoa, I'm so not. For me, before my mom died there was always this flurry of activity. I was lucky enough to be unemployed at the time, so I was home with my parents in Florida helping out. And from the time my mom woke up in the morning, until the time she went to bed, there were like 1001 things to do. Breakfast, pills, doctors appts, breathing machines, etc. And when that all just stopped...and it was just quiet...shit got real.
• Better living through pharmaceuticals. If you get depressed, and your Dr. recommends anti-depressants, do it. I mean, why not? They helped me tremendously (personally, I'm a big Wellbutrin fan).
• Keep on keepin on. Again, this whole grief thing is so intensely personal, and everyone deals in different ways. I've also found that it hits you in different ways. Sometimes now it literally just sneaks up on me like a sneeze--like totally out of nowhere. Like, I'm getting on the subway a few weeks ago and BAM, all the sudden I'm walking down the steps and I just start crying thinking about my mom. I didn't see someone who reminded me of my mom, I didn't smell her perfume, I didn't hear someone say her name. I was just walking along and BOOM. Grief is weird, and unexpected, and inconvenient. But I sort of look it like herpes...it may be dormant for awhile, but it never really goes away.

Anyway, so yeah. Cancer sucks. And this shit is hard. And for anyone who's had to go through it, I send much respect and love your way.

And just so that you're not sendin me online greeting cards-n-shit, you should know that I am really, truly ok.

And I know that my mom is still around, cause I believe in all that John Edward/Chip Coffey/Lisa Williams spirit shit. Also she sends me noticeable shout-outs all the time (like I wear this old ivory elephant charm of hers and I SWEAR TO GAWD at least once a week someone will comment on it. They'll tell me they like it, or ask me about it, or wonder about its origins. I feel like that's my mom's way of always saying "what up. I'm still here!). And true confessions: sometimes I just "feel her" around me. Not in a spooky way, but in a "yo, I'm still watching over you and making sure you don't mess up too badly" kind of way.

My quick lil' story about her actually got picked for that Stand Up 2 Cancer Special they did a couple of years ago and Halle Berry read my story (its at 2:43). And, yes, I still have this shit saved on my tivo.

But, yeah: It's been three years, and I still miss her like whoa.