I want to thank everyone for listening to my ongoing saga about moving away. Now the storm is calming. I went home to see Mom this weekend, and I realized how much I missed her. We wound up in tears last night, with me telling her how much I missed her and my sister.
My dad has been gone for almost two years, and I still cry from time to time. In fact, this weekend, I found myself missing him even more. I think going back to the house where he suffered and died just brings back the memories. He died in a hospice, but he suffered for months on end in my mother's house. It just kills me to see how devastated she still is, but she gently said that I have a life now, and that I need to go on.
The train ride home was torturous and long, but it felt good to be back with my husband. I nearly missed the train by sleeping until eight o'clock this morning. Then came the knock on the bedroom door. I bolted out of bed; shoved a doughnut down my throat; threw stuff into the suitcase; and hopped a cab. Then, with tearful eyes, I hugged my mom, closed the cab door, and headed for the train.
It's odd, though. I don't realize how much I miss my family when I'm here, but going back always brings tears to my eyes. I realize now that my mom has panic attacks that make it really hard for her to venture outside her comfort zone, but she did say that she'd try to get down here sometime.
So that's the scoop for my weekend.
