6 Months = 6 Days

That's what it feels like to me, anyway.

Sis has been able to get through it, mainly because she refuses to dwell on the past for too long; it's sort of a defense mechanism, given how shitty her school years were. Dad has good days and bad days, but he's found that keeping himself busy allows for more of the former and thus has taken to repainting the house and doing small jobs for friends, though not full on returning to work.

Me?
Been trying to complete some original work; Mom always believed in me as a writer, despite my personal opinion that she was biased with everything I wrote. Looking back, though, she was super supportive of whatever Sis and I did, and she really did enjoy reading what we both wrote. So maybe it wasn't so much being biased as it was her being an awesome Mom.

It's probably obvious by now, but six months ago in February, not even four days away from Valentine's, my Mom passed away due to kidney failure. She'd been in a steady decline for half a year before then, something that tore us all apart to watch, and the worst part? Even the doctors don't understand what made her kidneys fail: she was fine until one day, her eyes bothered her to the point where she couldn't open them, and she scheduled a doctor's appointment. After that...

I've thought about how to break the news, even considered staying silent. Wondered if I should make it long or short, vent my feelings like I did last night, or turn my pain into a short story. It's only fair that you guys know, since I've shared just about everything else. And then there's the fact that, despite telling myself that I already went through the Five Stages of Grief in slow motion ever since Mom was first rushed to the hospital to February, I think I'm going through them all over again.

There's obviously more to the story that I'm not telling you guys, a lot more, but it's a miracle that I managed to put this much out. I don't know if I can say anything else right now without a repeat of last night. Just know that, while this might be the first step in coming to terms with what happened, there's an emptiness that haunts me whenever I wake up and look to her usual spots: her chair (empty next to Dads'), where her laptop would charge (now it's packed away), her spot at the table with her favorite cup (the former is equally empty, the latter also packed away).

She's not there and it hurts.