Moving on…

“Moving on” has many connotations. A lot of people say things like, “I need to move on from Sarah, because she broke my heart.” when they get dumped. Or someone who is tired of their hairstyle, they might say, “I need to move on to a different stylist.” Well, I wish things were that simple for me.
I lost my mother three months ago, and I just had to leave 500 miles from what used to be my home. So, “Moving on” for me has meant growing up.
On June 26th, I went to woke up my mother, but she’d never wake again. The following month and a half were a blur to me. I numbed myself with massive amounts of drugs. I embarrassed myself, my family, and disrespected the memory of my mother by acting very immature. It was just the only way I felt I could survive living through losing the center of my universe. Since then I have cleaned my act up. My mother wouldn’t have wanted to see me that way.
My mother wasn’t a saint, but she was an amazing woman. She was an EMT who helped saved lives. She raised four children, and helped raised three grandchildren at times. I could tell her anything without her judging me or making me feel bad about myself. She just wasn’t a mother to me, She was a second mother to two of my best friends, Justin and Kyle. The suffered a loss as well, and they mourn for her, too. When they needed a place to stay (as did many other people) she never turned them away. She was a gracious and generous person, and I’d give anything to have her back.
Before she passed, we spoke of me moving down to Newbern, TN to my sister’s because my father and I do not get along at all. I was going to move sooner, but when she died I felt too guilty to leave my brother and father behind. My mother died from heart failure. She went into the hospital ten days before her death, and the doctors released her and said she needed to see a cardiologist a month later. She had 95 percent blockage in her artery. Even the phlebotomist even commented on the visible fat in the vials of her blood. But not enough blame in the world can bring her back, thus I’m trying to move on.
I rode a Grayhoud down here to Jackson, TN on Tuesday and arrived Wednesday morning. My bus was four hours late and I sat by a large woman who felt she was entitled to both seats even though the bus was at capacity and I needed to sit. Luckily, I made a fast friend named B who helped me out. I don’t think I’ll ever take a bus again if I can help it.
Now I’m sitting on my sister’s couch, trying to collect all the craziness that’s my life. I feel welcome here…but it’s not home yer. Even though I’ve grown up in the past three months, I still have a lot more growing up to do, and part of that is all about moving on.