Forgetting

On Saturday I went wine tasting in Sonoma for my roommate’s birthday. It was a great day – beautiful weather, the start of fall colors, good people, tasty wine, and a bountiful picnic.

But while I was there I forgot that anything was wrong with my mom.

I didn’t totally forget. I mean, we drove past the hospital she stayed in for rehab on the way up. I talked about helping her paint her nails when my friend gave me a manicure kit as a birthday gift. But the whole day I really didn’t talk about her, no one really asked about her, and I tried to just get lost in the moment – in the tasting, the views, and the company.

And it was great. It was a great day. And yet something just felt… off.

When I got home, and settled down into some introverted time, it all hit me again, almost like it was new. Images of my mom flashed in my mind – my mom lying in the hospital bed that my dad put in their room at home; my mom sitting in her wheelchair as she goes from the living room to the bathroom; my mom in yoga pants and tshirts (a very weird image, since she was always so stylish). And then remembering her voice – hearing her slur words, hearing her struggle for the right vocabulary, seeing her crying when she can’t fully express herself.

And because I had forgotten, or avoided, all of this during the day, it came back all the stronger. It was overwhelming, and almost as shocking as if it had just happened. And that off feeling I had felt all day? I realized that was me knowing what I was doing, knowing that I was trying to hide from reality, and knowing that it was all going to come back sooner or later.

How do I find balance? How do I find balance between the part of me that wants to live life as it used to be and the part of me that wants to be ever-present in this new reality for my family? How do I keep myself from forgetting, while keeping myself from being overwhelmed with grief?

All I know is that I don’t want to forget again, because the remembering hurt too much.