Next week, November 2nd, it will be twelve years since my mom died. Twelve years.
Four and a half years ago, I had Will.
Tonight, I watched Parenthood. Christina went in for her cancer surgery and they had a scene where her husband and family were in the waiting room while she was in surgery. They showed doctors coming in and telling other families the results of their loved ones surgery. I'm losing it. I feel like someone just punched me. Everything came back. That disgusting, dark, old waiting room that looked like a rundown library. The hallway where families got called one at a time to speak to their doctor after the surgery. That same hallway where they told us to get her affairs in order. The recovery room where we got to go and see my mom one at a time. I remember all of it. Pacing out in front of the hospital with my ex, wondering how the hell I was going to tell this to my grandmother and thinking it couldn't be true. Throwing up in a rock garden outside the hospital.
I remember all of it. The smells, the sights, the sounds. I remember every thing about that day and those nine months that followed.
Yet I can't remember Will's life from say eight months to two years. I remember the hospital and coming home. I remember the first six weeks and the few months of hell after. After that? Nothing. It's like he came to me at two and a half. I'm so happy that I took so many pictures and videos because they trigger memories of certain times and places but there is no continuity. Why?
What makes your brain vividly remember things that you'd rather forget but times that you're straining to remember, it won't let you go there. Seriously - I don't get it.
The brain is amazing thing. Unless it's got a tumour. Or won't let you forget. Or let you remember. Actually, tonight? The brain can kiss my ass.
**First haircut? I don't remember...but when I see the picture...it all comes back.**