2192 days

That is six years (plus two days for leap years). It can be a long time, or a short time, depending on your perspective. Part of me feels like it has gone by in the blink of an eye; another part feels like it has dragged on like the longest night of the year.

It was 2192 days ago that the San Francisco Coroner's Office took possession of my mother's body. It isn't clear exactly when she died. And really, at this point, it doesn't really matter. She is gone, and has been for a long time.

It is hard to believe it has been that long. When I first found out (it took them a few days to find me), I honestly wasn't sure how I would make it to the next day. I am not quite sure how I made it through this far. It just doesn't seem possible that I haven't seen, heard, touched, hugged, kissed, smelled...my mother.

My Mom and I became pretty close after my sister was disowned. We were more like girlfriends in some ways, than mother/daughter. If you are familiar with the TV show, Gilmore Girls, it was something like the early days, just mixed with a lot of AbFab -- there are no wealthy Yale-grad grandparents in my story.

When I went off to school, we talked almost every night. The phone bills were crazy. Even after I moved to Berkeley, we talked for hours on the phone every week. And yes, the phone bills were crazy.

We knew all the characters, and all the back story. We had our own inside jokes. We didn't need to finish sentences to get it. We would both be in stiches just by uttering certain code words.

Of course as she started to call drunk more and more, it got harder. And eventually it got too hard and I had to pull away. I fled 1500 miles away because I didn't know what else to do. She called me threatening to walk onto the Bay Bridge so I called the police to do a wellness check. I still remember the laughter in the officer's voice when he told me she was just three sheets to the wind.

Then one day (before I left) she just disappeared. I was at work and I couldn't concentrate and so finally decided to call her building management (or maybe they called me). My boss offered to go with me, but I decided this was something I had to do on my own.

I found a place to park, and they took me up to her room. I knocked and called to her, but there was no answer. They opened the door. My heart was racing. What would I find? I feared the worst.

The room was so tiny. I described it to others as storage space for people. The bed was empty. That was good, right? Next I had to go into the bathroom. My heart was pounding so hard. Thankfully even after pulling back the shower curtain, it was empty.

Of course, it didn't explain where she was. And it still didn't mean that something bad hadn't happened. I was just so relieved not to have found her there, gone.

She eventually did show up. Honestly can't recall what story she told for where she had been. Less than a year later, someone else would enter that room and find her. Gone. Still glad it wasn't me those 2192 days ago.