So, admittedly, reality sort of sunk in this week. And no, it wasn't the fact that I'm now officially working on the LAST act of the book... but, rather, that I looked ahead at what I have left.
...The timing is crazy. I divided up the remaining chapters and it just so happens that the day I will finish/be done with writing happens to be Friday, May 26th - the anniversary of the same day my mom passed away.
I don't know how to exactly feel about that, speaking honestly. I think it's liberating in a sense that such a huge weight and burden for my future will be exorcised on a day that will always mean a lot to me. Hey, that's cool. And certainly something I didn't plan that way, but I'm glad it happens to fall underneath a day like that. I cannot deny that's special and, perhaps, bigger than me in a sense.
And yet, on the other side of the coin, I don't know sometimes. I mean, I'm here 9 years later, and this month still manages to kick the shit out of me. Mother's Day is the first hurdle. And then, just a few days later, that. I hate sympathy. I hate pity. And believe me, I'm not writing this because I'm sad... I'm not.
I haven't been in a long time.
I guess, more than anything, I just wish I had my mom by my side for times like this. It's selfish. It's stupid. But, it's human, I think. I want her to read what I wrote and chime in with a British accent, "Oh Kyle, this is WONDERFUL. You're going to be such a bloody good writer." I want to throw back some sarcastic comment or wit and have it be challenged back. I want to have that aura of support around me when I need it most.
Look, I know I have it. I feel it. I see it - in my own eyes, at least - and that's enough for me. But, on early mornings like this... I just wish things could have been different. I wish cancer didn't win. I wish I had more time to make more memories. And I guess that's honestly the concrete reason WHY I'm always wearing my heart on my sleeve every day. I know damn well that tomorrow isn't a promise...... so, I give everything I have to people at the here and now. Once again (see the pattern), it's stupid. It's exhausting. Yet, that's who I am. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
The same goes for writing. I'm going to keep that in mind especially over the course of these next three long weeks. If I can just find the resilience right now to hit the reset button every morning and come back with everything I exerted the day before on the page... then, I know I can do this. The problem is that a bright light tends to burn out fast, so I'm often afraid that I'm going to wake up one morning and it just won't turn on anymore.
I'm overthinking this. I need coffee. I'm back in attack-mode tomorrow. Assassin mentality, blah blah blah. Let's just go.