How April becomes Sadness

It has been a long while since I have been able to draw up enough courage, or emotion to write something down.
In all the good things that have come into my life, there has also come sadness and I can't let it pass without speaking about it, it seems.

A year ago, my best friend called me. She sent me a series of texts while I was at rehearsal for the final concert of the Fall River Symphony's 2015-2016 season. Her mother was headed to the hospital. They wanted to monitor her, get her strength up, perform surgery.
She wasn't doing well.
We all clung to hope.

She passed away anyway.

A few short weeks ago, my Memere had a heart attack. She was in the ICU.
My family came together for her, we talked to her. We prayed.
She did not wake up.

She was gone before I knew it. April 6th, 2017.
A date like a history book. Real and final.

It hurts so much that I can barely see my screen right now through the tears that are burning my eyes.

I never got the chance to say goodbye to her. I cannot remember our last conversation clearly. Just a hazy blur of "I'll see you next week" as I left from the Rosary routine our family has (had?) every Lenten season.

I didn't know it was our last conversation. I didn't know it was the last time I would see her walking around and talking. I didn't know it was the last moment I would share with her.

I have so many regrets.

And this month has settled into my stomach like a void. At times it is so apparent that I feel nothing. I have no reactions to the losses I have felt. Suddenly though. Seemingly without warning, the realization crosses my mind again and it implodes within me followed by the torrents of tears and the heart wrenching, pain filled regrets threaten to tear me asunder.

And yet.

Bookmarking these sad moments, is my mother's birthday, on the 3rd. My other best friend's daughter's first birthday was Easter this year. The 16th.
My boyfriend, Jeffrey, who has been a rock in my hurricane waters, celebrates his birthday on the 30th.

Spring has come around the corner. I've seen wildlife and taken pictures of the things that make me happy.

When there is sadness, lean always into gratitude.

...I've been trying hard to cling to these things. To these important moments about the people important to me. They are the drift wood in my sea but I still am paddling so hard to keep afloat I'm sure I will drown as soon as they have passed me by.

I regret so much about my life. I regret that I never finished a novel before my Memere passed, like I said I would.
I regret that before Kathleen died, I never took her up on continuing as her student in "positive neuropsychology". I regret that I have done nothing that I can really confidently say, would make them proud. I regret that I met Jeffrey too late for them to have known him. Kathleen would have like him a lot and I can only hope my Memere could approve, even if he isn't Catholic.

I miss them.
I miss them so much.

Both Eileen and Kathleen were strong, matriarchal figures of the family. Spearheads of familial devotion and love. Thoughtful, but stern in their beliefs. Kathleen read stories of the world, wrote anecdotes and dreamed of bigger, better, more beautiful things. Yet found solace, love, and contentment in her home in New Bedford with her family.
Eileen read fiction, escaped to worlds fantastic and apocalyptic, magical and undoubtedly endless. She baked and cooked, she grew flowers. She was formative to my childhood and the place I grew up.
I lived next door.

Losing them both feels like losing parts of myself I hadn't had the chance to grasp yet. I wish I had talked to them more.
I wish I had seen my Memere more and heard stories of her childhood. I wish I had visited when I had the chance.

At this moment, the worst part of loss, is regret.
Tomorrow, it will be different.

I miss you both, I love you.
I hope one day, I'll make you proud.

Say hello to everyone else who passed in April, it seems a pretty popular time.