I know you...

Almost at the two months mark and today it hit me that things are very different from when my mom was alive. Not in the ways most would think, but in the little things. Sarah and I have put together a new show line up, shows my mom was not alive to see air. I am reconnecting with an old friend my mom never knew I was talking to again. My mom never even got to watch Glee club make it to nationals. I can continue to list but it would leave me crying and unable to finish this blog...

Throughout the exploration of these new aspects in my life, I catch myself saying "mom would love this" or "mom would hate that." As I type, I am watching CNN and the Anthony verdict and I hear my mom's voice yelling at the TV. As I watch the coverage, I find myself thinking about the fact I do not KNOW what my mom would be saying tonight, I can guess but that is it. As I watch "Switched at Birth" on ABC Family, I can turn to Sarah and say mom wouldn't watch this show because she wouldn't want to read the subtitles but who am I to say that? I can say all I want that I knew my mom and know her thoughts but through out the past two months I have been proven wrong. Her friends talk about her dancing and how much she loved to go out. No matter how hard I try, I cannot picture that Sheri. They talk about her love of the "Beach Boys." Again, not the Sheri I knew. No matter how much I "know" or actually "knew" (still having a hard time putting her in the past tense, but that is a topic for another post) my mom I well never know everything, yet I can sit here and say she would love or hate something? It took these thoughts for me to actually hear in my mind "mom is dead." Up until now, I have forced those words to not enter my mind or soul. I would say it out loud and would see the images, but I would refuse to believe it deep down. The seen cannot be unseen and I have taken that step and there is no turning back. Honestly, that thought hurts more than seeing the discoloration on my mom that day and watching my mom leave her place one last time in a bag.

As each day passes, I miss my mom more and more. I wish my mom shared the "Beach Boys" with me and her love of dancing. People are complex and you can never know someone completely, but I wish I would have tried harder when she was here...