Are you okay?

First off, thank you for everyone's comments and support you guys are giving me. A lot of people have read my last blog and been asking me if I'm doing ok or if I'm alright. And well...here's your answer...

On the way home from the Commissary, the radio played Darryl Worley's I Miss My Friend. Midway through his sentence, Dad stopped talking and never continued.

I may have said before that we needed to "get away" from the Ranch and from all of the current events but there are just things that we CANNOT avoid. There are just things that we're not used to yet (and I wonder if we'll ever get use to it) And there are even things that we just don't know HOW to move on without Mom.

Things like:

• Going to the PX/Commissary without Mom.
  
• Prepping or even having dinner at home.
  
• Setting one less plate when we do eat at home.
  
• Selling Mom's car
  
• Turning off Mom's phone
  
• Resetting the answering machine
  

and so much more...

Even though we know one day we have to move on with our lives, right now, we can't. (Or maybe we can never move on) Right now, Mom's voice on the answering machine warms (and at the same time breaks) our hearts. Right now, Mom's car in the driveway somehow reassures us that Mom's just away for a business trip and shall return soon. I don't know why Dad and I keep fooling ourselves like this but maybe this is our way of dealing (or rather not dealing) with everything. Things truly aren't the same without Mom, our eating habits are different, our breathing habits are different. WE are different. Mom was the backbone of this family and now without her, Dad and I are just trying to form something out of our gelatin body but can't. We simply can't. Mom seems to be the person that kept Dad and I sane. And now we're just trying to look as sane as possible. So the world will believe we're sane. So our friends and family will believe we're doing alright. So we can fool ourselves and telling ourselves that it's alright. But it's not alright. Mom dying is not alright. Dad and I aren't alright (but we sure do a good job pretending we are) We miss you, Mama. Teach us how to be right again. Edit: Let it be known that it was extremely difficult for me to write this. I don't usually admit that I'm not doing alright. In fact, this is the first time I've say that I'm not alright. Trust me, this never happens.