The second year was harder than the first.

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My mom died almost two years ago. She was actually gone before then. For those who don't know, my mom was 46 when she was diagnosed with dementia, and 55 when she died from it. But she had been gone for quite sometime. She couldn't speak, she would run into a wall, back up, and walk right back into that same wall. For the last seven years we had to have her in diapers because she'd forget she needed to go to the bathroom until she soiled her underwear. Somehow, my dad managed to keep her at home even though he continued to earn a living. I helped, but I'll never completely understand all he went through. The first year without her was hard, but like I said, we had had years to come to terms with her loss. It was a relief to know she wasn't existing in such a cruel mental prison. But this second year has been tough. I couldn't put my finger on it until this past Christmas. The second year after she died my dad had gotten remarried. She was a lovely woman we'd met at church camp decades ago, and she had known my mom and dad for a long time. None of us had seen her in years (she lived 2 hours away) before my dad saw her again at the hospital when visiting a friend. So at Christmas we went to visit my grandmother, my mom's mother, and I looked around at my sister, my dad, my BIL, and their two little ones. Then I looked at Diana (my dad's wife) and it hit me. My mom should be the one seeing this. My mom should be loving how her family turned out. But it wasn't my mom. Just to be clear, my dad asked my grandmother's permission to remarry before he proposed. And my grandmother asked my dad to bring her around whenever he was in town so they could get to know her better. So there are no negative feelings. And I like her, and am so happy she brought some joy to my dad's life. I guess it will still take more time. She was so young, and was so smart, talented, and loving. I miss that so much. I miss my Mama.