A lot to process

The Young and the Rested
I planned on taking some time off from writing but I really need to talk about my day today.
It was pouring down rain about 9AM but thankfully an hour later it had stopped and the sun was out. It was hot but since we were in the shade and out in the open at the cemetary it wasn’t as bad as it would have been in a brick church! Everyone that came said it was lovely service. I was really quite pleased and I think it went well. We had 2 ministers do it (I asked the one but the assistant knew Mom too so he joined him). He talked about his connection to my grandparents, my Mom and now me. Because I have been writing everyday since Jan it wasn’t hard for me to write something about Mom. I just wrote stories/antedotes about times that we shared, who Mom was. Mine was a whole page, Rob’s not quite half. I write this because he has no memories of his sister, his Dad or his Mom past his teen years. How is he ever going to tell his daughter where he came from, who they were without memories?
He brought my niece with them. She is so beautiful. She doesn’t remember me but didn’t make strange which was a first. Rob’s wife’s Mother said “she has the same hair colour as you. Does she get the curly hair from you?” When I was younger (maybe about 12) I had curlier hair than now and it was worse in the summer. Sienna has a boisterous laugh just like Janet’s. I stood at the graveside thinking how wrong this was that Mom had to die for me to see them. That Mom will never get to know her. So much time wasted.
We all went out for lunch afterwards (Anna’s parents were there too). When we were all finished my brother stood up and said we would like to share some happy news on a sad day. They are pregnant. I was so stunned. All I could repeat was WOW. I sat in stunned silence. All I wanted to do was cry. Because Mom wasn’t there. And in a way I felt it took away from the occassion of the day. To celebration and honour Mom. I went up and congratulated them but honestly I don’t know what to feel.
Am I supposed to just go on as if the past 2 years never happened? That I can count on less than 2 hands the amount of times I have seen them in the past 6 years since Dad died? I can’t just forget that he came twice in the 8months that Mom was sick.
I am now here alone. My brother has a life in Toronto. Never having to see the empty chairs. Passing by places that Mom and I went together. Meals for one.
My whole life is going to change. But I don’t know what that means yet.

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