SecondHand Tryptophan

The Nights are Long

I’m sitting here looking at my Mom’s bedroom door because it’s in my direct line-of-sight from the living room. Straight through the kitchen. I’ve tried to write this a hundred times. I just can’t seem to put my head around it, let alone give this what it deserves.

Mom's Door

Mom is gone. She died last month, days after the surgery I mentioned in my last post. Everything went fine. She came home after a couple of days in the hospital and died several days later while napping, not even 10 minutes after I last saw her. Life ever since has been…a haze. I’m still in shock.

So many details and things to take care of…I haven’t processed the fact that she’s gone. I’ve caught myself numerous times about to ask her this or that. Just now I turned the music down because I didn’t want to wake her up.

The days are fairly easy, as far as staying distracted goes. It’s the nights – like right now – that are the hardest. Having her door right there. Being pretty much the only person awake on the planet.

It’s quiet. And still.

It will take a long time to get used to it.

I’ll tell you who is happy about Mom’s passing. The slugs. That salt shaker took down thousands of those bastards and now they can rest easy.

The Shaker that Killed a Thousand Slugs
The Shaker that Killed a Thousand Slugs

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