Sometimes I’ll forget that my mom died. She died two-and-a-half weeks and a half ago. I’ll think about her as if she’s still alive and then then I’ll suddenly remember, “Oh, my God, she’s gone.”
I’ve been going up and down a lot since she went. Sometimes I’ll feel a great sadness. Other times I get really tired. Then there are times where I’ll feel super angry. And then I’ll feel a deep and quiet peace. It’s funny because during those times, I’ll think, “Oh, the grief is over. Thank God!” But then it shows its face again.
I talked with a friend about it and he said that grief is the price we pay for love. The pain is the admission fee I pay for the closeness.
I’ve been experiencing a lot of death the past month. A week before my mom died, I learned Dusty Hill, the bass player from ZZ Top, had died. I’m a big fan of the band and actually met Dusty about two years ago and he was very kind to me. I was really sad for a few days. And then a week ago, I found out Charlie Watts, the drummer from the Rolling Stones had died. I took that hard too. I’d never met him, but I connected deeply with his creativity.
Certain rare people reach my heart. I know how much they meant to me when they go.