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It seems like every few days, I will have a realization. A realization means coming to understand something that is real. Realizations can be good or bad. I’m not sure which mine classify as. All I know is that they do not make me feel good. But, I can’t control them from popping into my head. They’re scary and exhausting and constant. I don’t mean to think of some of the things I think. It pisses me off when I do. But I’m only human. And I guess, or at least I think, this is natural. Why we do this to ourselves, I’ll never know. It’s like some demented form of self-torture that is performed unintentionally. Maybe it’s just our inner demons reminding us that they do indeed exist.
I’m pretty sure we have inner demons. Every one of us. So, here is what my inner demons made me realize the other day: Sometime, in the not so distant future, I am going to be that young woman whose boyfriend or fiancé will make mention in casual conversation to his friends or family… “…yeah… she comes from a really good family; they’re pretty close. Her dad and brother are very cool guys; really sincere, down to earth…I never got the chance to meet her mom though… she passed away before I met Ashley. It’s really sad… they were super close…”
Yuck!
And I am going to be that mother telling stories about my mom to my children. This will be the only relationship they have with her––a story. And most likely, they won’t even care because she won’t be a real person to them.
But it can’t be like that. It just can’t. Someway, somehow, my mom is going to have to stay a part of my life, and my family’s.
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