Six years ago, early this morning, my mother committed suicide (at least that's what the death certificate officially deemed). And no, this is not an April Fool's joke. I really wish it had been.
I didn't think of my mother as suicidal. I still have a hard time believing it was suicide... partly because the officers involved had a hard time believing it as well. I do know my mother was having a hard time with her new husband (whom she married after knowing him only weeks). I also know that her husband was very violent. I often think "what could I have done to prevent this?" I know that does me no good, but it still pops into my head from time to time.
You know how people say "it gets easier with time", well... I guess it does. Now, six years later, it is much easier. I no longer think that my mother is a phone call away... I don't expect her to call, and I don't expect to see her some random place.
I know where my mother is, she's nestled in an urn in our hutch.... and that's okay. It's pretty crazy how the grief process works, and how long it takes. While everyone deals with death differently, and on their own timeline, it is something that definitely takes time. I am at peace with the thought of her being gone. Although, not necessarily at peace with her death, as I think I will always be wanting the closure of knowing what really happened that night and early morning.
My relationship with my mother was strained. She hadn't always been a good role model, or even a person who was able to support me. I moved out on my own when I was 17, and didn't talk to my mother for quite some time after that. When I was pregnant with my first child, we started talking again. It's definitely a time when most daughters need their mothers.
From then on, we tried to repair our relationship. We were never close... I never told her I loved her, and I was extremely guarded. However, she did want to be a part of her grandchildren's lives, and she was a good grandma.
One of my biggest regrets is not telling my mom how much she did mean to me. I was angry still. I held that anger in my heart and while I do think it was justified, I really wish I could have let it go. It was only after she died that I really wished I had let it go, it wasn't worth having.
If I could give everyone a piece of advice it would be to free yourself from your anger. It isn't always easy...but being so angry really isn't worth it in the end. I still struggle with this at times, I still hold grudges against people that I am angry with. I try to remind myself that this anger really isn't worth it, and you never know what will happen in life.
RIP Lisa Marie Genson. March 8, 1965- April 1, 2006.