Six Months

It’s been six months since my mom passed away. How can it be half a year since she has been gone? And yet, it doesn’t feel long at all.

Reality feels like a nightmare.

Over two weeks ago, I had anxiety one night before bed. I woke up not feeling well with a bunch of symptoms. It is slowly getting better, but it has been scary dealing with this without my mom. 

It’s crazy what grief, anxiety, and panic can do. 

On Easter Day, I went with Victor to his family’s cookout. Before we left, he told me he was sorry that my family was gone. But I have a family here that loves me and accepts me. It made me emotional, and his family has been kind to me, but I still don’t feel like they are my family.

I get invited to their homes for holidays and such. But there is more to family than that. Family are people who love you, care about you, support you, and are there for you.

In my grief, my own family has not been that. And neither has Victor’s family. No one in my or his family reaches out to check on me.

I know he was trying to make me feel better. 

One thing I say to Victor is that I see a lot, but I don’t say a lot. 

I see a lot of things with his family. His dad’s side is not as bad as his mom’s side of the family, but there are still a lot of comments made to make Victor feel worthless.

His dad did it once to me, too. And it was over a stupid thing. 

We stayed at his dad’s house in 2021 when it snowed. We were without power at our place for four or five days. One morning, during breakfast, I was asked if I wanted coffee. I said no because I don’t like coffee. His dad said, “Well, at least my son drinks coffee.” And acted like it was a horrible thing because I don’t.

Another time, we were visiting, and Victor was in the bathroom; his dad was talking to me. He told me he made sure his daughter (Victor’s half-sister) knew Spanish. He talked down about Victor not knowing Spanish and called him a coconut. 

For those who don’t know, coconut is an insult, meaning a person is brown on the outside but white on the inside.

On Easter, we brought Calcifer with us in his carrier. Victor’s dad said when we were getting ready to leave, “I always thought my son would have a dog like a rottweiler, not a rodent as a pet.” 

I could tell his dad’s comment bothered him. Victor loves Calcifer.

Those little comments are one of the reasons I keep my distance. I feel like Victor is my family, and that’s it.

My mom and Victor were my family. Now, my mom is gone. It’s still hard. I’m not crying like I did in the beginning, but I still have a lot of instances where I feel like I need my mom. 

I miss her so much.