12/6/13 marked 5 years since mom's passing. Even though 5 years seems a long time, half a decade already, it also feels like it flew by really fast. Every once in a while I'm struck with this feeling of both awe and sadness whenever I think about how long it's been since I last saw mom. Five years since I talked with her. Five years since I felt the comfort of mom's warm and soft hands, five years since I last hugged her, five years since I had Starbucks and good long heart to heart chats with her at our "crying table" or in one of our cars in the garage. Five years since I heard her laugh especially when she's talking with her best friends. Five years since I got texts, AIM messages, emails and letters from her. Five years. I used to think it would be impossible to live without mom even if I've been doing things on my own for some time now. I couldn't imagine life without mom. To this day, I still struggle with that. Mom didn't just give birth to me, raise me the best she could, teach me survival skills so I can do things on my own, and be there with me whenever I needed a mom. She created a world that I was part of since I was born. A world full of so many things that made me who I am today. It wasn't my world, it was mom's world and I lived in it. That world was gone the same day she was taken from us. So for the past five years, I had to learn how to live in this world I wasn't as familiar and comfortable with as I was in mom's world.
As you know, I'm deaf. Right after I became deaf at age 2, I got the cochlear implant and was able to continue to use my speech skills for communication. I was able to participate in life in so many ways. I got an cochlear implant upgrade in 2012 so I could hear better. What a lot of people, especially my family, don't realize is not everything they saw me go through is what they thought it was. They saw me able to hear some sounds and able to talk with anyone, but most of the time I was just pretending and most of my reactions and responses were practiced to the point where I got it down perfectly. So I would say 80-90% of the time I did not understand them clearly. I pick out maybe 5 words that I think they said, put them together quickly in my mind like a puzzle so I can figure out the context, then I respond with what I think matches the 5 words I was able to make out. An example: "Tracy, your mother told me you (garbled) (garbled) (garbled) school (garbled) (garbled) my daughter (garbled) (garbled) long hair (garbled) meet you." My mind picked up "Tracy, your mother told me you school my daughter long hair meet you" then figured out the person must be talking about me going to school with her daughter who has long hair who she would like me to meet, then it quickly sorted through files of faces I remember from school to see if I remember any with long hair, then ta-dah my response becomes "Your daughter is Andreea? I know her, she's nice. I'm in Mrs. J's class and she's in Mrs. B's class, but I see her all the time. She always says hi to me in the cafeteria." I add extra details like that to "fluff" up the conversation and to stop the person from talking so much because otherwise I'd be completely lost. The more details I give (and the more I do the talking), the more likely the person I'm talking with will not talk so much and will instead give me shorter, quicker responses like "Oh really?" and "That's great!", which I prefer. Starting at age 2, I learned how to manipulate and take control of my conversations with everyone. It's a skill I picked up to survive, not to connect with others like any hearing person would. The more normal I seem to them, the easier life becomes, or so I thought for a long time.
Bottom line is -- despite getting the cochlear implant within the right time frame, undergoing years of intensive speech therapy, making friends with hearing non-signers who are patient with me, and getting a newer cochlear implant...I still cannot hear the way people think or assume I do. I did not feel like a complete person inside, I continued to feel like something was missing in me. I continued to yearn for that connection I could clearly see between people when they talked to each other effortlessly. Sign language saved my life. I am able to connect to people without having my mind work super hard at coming up with the right responses. I don't have to deal with the embarrassment of giving the wrong responses. I can be myself and say anything that comes to my mind, anything I'm feeling at the moment, ANYTHING. It's so easy that I don't even think about whether I'm signing right or not, etc, anymore. With my speech, it never felt that easy...not even close.
Well, mom was probably the only one in the family I had that ease with communication...I could actually understand word for word what she said. Part of it is probably from practicing my speech with her, as she'd work really hard with me to make sure my speech was clear. We connected somehow. She wanted that connection with me as much as I wanted it with her. We learned how to talk to each other the way we did. It became our own language even if it's all in spoken English and any hearing person could understand us, yet it felt like it was a language only we understood. We talked about everything...we responded to each other quickly, back and forth, joked, and more. I understood everything. When mom talked with others, I understood her maybe half of the time, so I knew with me she spoke a bit differently and I did not mind at all. It felt very natural too, not awkward or anything like that. She also did some basic signing, mostly fingerspelling (ABCs), which helped.
That was the kind of bond we had. We were connected to each other on so many levels that, as you can see, it was like half of me died with her when it was her time to go.
How does one begin to fill up the half in them that also dies when their loved one dies? The half in me that died with mom is still there. It hasn't been filled yet and I realized over time that it probably won't ever be filled because it was something that only mom and I shared together. I also realized over time that I don't have "halves" in me...I am like the universe, I have endless amounts of space I can fill up with all kinds of connections I make everywhere. That space in me is just as expansive as the universe, just as mysterious and explorable. Mom was like the sun as we know it, she took up a huge amount of my space, but since I am the universe, I still have so much more space that hasn't been discovered yet.
I have been making more connections and deepening some of them especially with people I am closest to, like my fiance and best friends. I have also been learning to deepen my connection with animals (my three wonderful kitties!) and nature. Even my connection with mom has been deepening over time. Everyone has different experiences with death and what it does to them. For me, it has been teaching me to connect more and deeper.
This entry was typed last year, it is now 2015. Mom has been physically (blood, flesh and bones) gone for 6 years. The connection we had is still there and I always find my comfort there. I feel her warmth and love when I'm there. Instead of keeping it inside, I let it pour through me so that it can touch others around me, because that was what mom was all about. It is through her love for us that keeps her alive, keeps us connected to her. I see her in my brother, his wife and their kids. I see her in my aunt, mom's oldest sister. I see her in my fiance, even if they only met one time, very briefly, years before she passed away. I love you so much mom.
