These aren't socks she wore. They aren't some creepy momento of her. They're socks someone gave her for Christmas one year up at the home. Everyone got them, a pair of white cotton socks along with a pair of no slide slipper socks. Mom wouldn't wear either so I gave the slipper socks to her roommate (who never walked but liked the colors) and I brought the other pair home where it entered the black hole of my sock drawer. I'd forgotten they were in there and put them on without noticing. But now I'm sitting here wearing Mom's socks and sipping my tea and realizing I've been without her for almost a year. I think it's a good sign when I don't miss her every day. I've stopped getting up and packing to go up then realizing I've nowhere to go. Her friends at the nursing home have all been passing one by one. I know she has company where ever she is.
I've gotten busy. Things to do, people to see, places to go. Ads to write and boxes to pack, She's been out of my head and my dreams. I'm adding a stage to the stages of grief, the 'the busy stage'. The stage were you've caught up on life and are just living it. Your loved one is out of your head but still in your heart. You've made it past the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, their birthday and you're closing in on the one year anniversary. But you're doing okay.
I'm doing okay. I'm busy. I have people to see and spend time with. My granddaughter is growing so fast it makes my head spin.. I have friends and family and my conversations don't revolve around Mom. I just let myself move on and I'm ready for Spring. I'm ready for being a grandma, for planting my flowers, for going to baseball and for taking my dog out for walks that last longer than one minute. I still miss her. I'm still not sure why but I do. I'll probably always feel a little lost but I'll do okay because I'm surrounded by joy and because every once in a while I'll look down and realize I'm wearing her socks.
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