10-7-17

So I’m back. The trip that was originally going to be 10 days, that was then shortened to 7, but ended up being 17, is finally over.

After the much more emotional than expected service on Friday night, I woke up Saturday morning after not much sleep and got dressed for the funeral. I bought a jet black shirt while I was up in Boston with Julie, that I unwrapped, depinned, ironed, and put it on. My pants. My tie. My socks, my shoes, my mood. All matching.

I sat on my couch on Sunday, 24+ hours later, finally back in Austin, and still in the same clothes. Without Katie stopping by to say hello, I would have been monochromatic until Monday morning. The thing is, I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to shower. This strange uniform that I was wearing kept me in the emotional place that I had been in for the last 17 days, specifically to burying my too-soon-removed mother and the intense time spent with my too-oft-distant family the day before. While I was still dressed I was still there. I was still dependant, yet depended on—intertwined with my extended family in a way that I never have before. A seemingly endless supply of kisses and hugs to keep me going, yet somehow able to comfort my cousin Zaida when she simply ran out of words, and could communicate nothing but tears.

But I got up off the couch because I had to change, because now I know I have to. No longer can I depend on mom as the tether between me and the rest of my massive family. Today is day 3 of a totally different life for me. Not one by choice. Not one by some artificial New Year’s Resolution, but due to my family structure changing in a way that simply came too soon. My mom told me she was ready to go. I wasn’t ready for her to leave.