The seasons are changing and I can feel all of the settling that comes along with it. It's settling in that my Mom is gone gone and being okay with that cuts deeper than the first few weeks of being catatonic. I was listening to a podacst about a grieving teen who said something like, "I'm just someone with a dead parent now", and their indifference resonated with me.

It's getting chilly. It reminds me of when I visited Chicago for my move back in October 2019— one that my parents graciously helped orchestrate because they wouldn't let their “baby girl” move cross-country by herself. I didn’t know it would be the last time I saw my Mom.

Every day I look at the little mom-isms she put in place that remain in my apartment; like the perfect window cut-outs she made from paper-towels to block out any potential ‘burglars’ or voyeurs, then stuck to the back door. Always a budget queen with penchant for safety.

I can feel the memory of my Mom slipping as I dust off photos and trinkets of hers. I put these bits of junk away in a special box to declutter and change the energy of my room around. It feels like progress, but also like an affront to my memory of her; I don't want to forget about my Mother. So I keep a few things in sight.

With the summer season nearly gone I feel like I have nothing to show for it. No new lovers found or friendships forged. No real change in my reality other than accepting that my Mom’s gone and I'm still here and that the world is a truly unpredictable shit storm right now.

I'm clinging to the friends I do have for dear life as other so-called 'friends' show their true colors during grief. I've found that in death, those in the outskirts of your intimate friend circles do one of three things; they scatter without a word, they express condolences sincerely but without true empathy for you because they have not experienced close death themselves, or they acknowledge your pain passively at best (so that they may feel better- not you.) Everyone wants to feel like ‘they tried’ without really doing anything.

Like in the case of one former friend of mine who sent their condolences in an Instagram message… (eye roll) leaving the text I sent them 6+ months prior about their shitty, flakey behavior unanswered. Feigning camaraderie without a note of truth or action behind it is something no one needs during grief. The only thing more unsettling than dealing with your own grief is dealing with other people dealing with your grief. So I've cut ties.

I think the saddest thing is that I don't have consistent journaling to look back on. I've felt too anxious and depressed to devote time to anything that will leave a shred of hindsight or nostalgia. I’ve been busy… being 'in it'. And subconsciously, I’ve know that I simply don’t want to remember how I feel right now. When everything is pitiful, sadness is so nuanced that you can’t convey it’s subtleties accurately- even to yourself. Giving myself grace is something I'm not great at, even now. I will try to be better.

My first summer in Chicago should have been a lot of things- COVID aside. But now it's just a messy blur of Netflix shows, crying spells, tip-toeing my triggers, and no true delineation between 'good days' and 'bad days' because they are all awful without my Mom in them.

Hopefully I can look back on this lament once I see brighter days mentally+ spiritually, even as the dark & cold closes in.