6 weeks

I’ve heard the words “it’s okay to not be okay” more times than I can count. What I didn’t realize until recently was that the reminder I need more often is this one: “it’s okay to be okay”.

It’s been 6 weeks without my mom. 6 of the weirdest weeks of my life. The first month it didn’t feel real. I was so busy with funeral preparations and trying to make sure that the rest of my family, my dad specifically, was okay.

After that first month time starts to move normally. You can’t live your entire life like you’re walking through ‘jello’ and people start to expect things from you again. Work is still there, groceries still need to be bought, and you can’t answer “my mom died” every time someone asks you how you are.

Most days I feel okay. Most days I don’t realize that my mom is gone. It still just feels like she is on an extremely long shopping trip to Spokane, like the one she took when I was 14.

But sometimes I avoid looking at the calendar because each time I do I somehow end up turning to February 13th and counting the weeks without my mom. I do this more as a habit or a routine than I do actually counting because how could I ever forget how many days, hours, or minutes it’s been? It’s a number that my brain can’t stop counting - even if I wanted it to. 6 weeks.

It’s been 6 weeks without my mom.