Leaving my mom has never been easy despite having made the trip several times since moving to LA in 2011. Now, just seven months after her recovery from a heart attack, I can admit that it’s absolutely (excruciatingly) harder. Traditionally (despite being the person most apt to wear my emotions on my sleeve in the family), I have kept it together when saying goodbye to DJ. She almost always cries (and she is not prone to crying). The last few trips though – forget it. She melts. I melt. I double-melt as I’m hugging her, and I’m reminded of her ordeal this year by her sheer tininess (seeming weightlessness, really). She is so much better than she was post-surgeries (there were two with the heart attack), but I see (and feel) a changed person and can’t help but think that any number of things could happen to her while I’m gone. She’s likely “better” than she was before she had the heart attack given the condition her heart had to have previously been in; however, I can’t help watching her as she shuffles around (miniature slip of a woman that I now consider her; she thinks I’m nuts – I think she has body dysmorphia) and thinking: this.is.harder. I can’t “do” being at home for long periods of time, but I also can’t “do” being so far away. LA (along with all of Miami’s general craziness and rudeness that makes me want to tear my own hair out) is the significant other that keeps me from coming back. He/She/Ze has been good to me in many ways; they’ve allowed me to thrive even through the worst of times. I am not sure where the next step on the path will take me, but I am pretty sure that it will allow me the ability to be closer to my momsie. As gratitude goes for 2015, her life is the thing for which I am the most grateful.
Ps: Irises are her favorite. 😉