Dear Mom,
Tomorrow is the day. It's the day I have dreaded for so long. I cannot believe it has been a whole year since I laid in the hospital bed with you and felt you take your last breath. I can still feel your heart stop, and I still feel that same pain I felt on that day, one year ago tomorrow. I am still angry that I never got to truly tell you goodbye - for 2 weeks you were non responsive, and I will never know if you heard me tell you over and over how much I love you, and how proud I am of you.
It still feels like a dream; when I see your pictures, I feel like I should be able to pick up the phone and call you - trust me, I have habitually done it a few times this past year, which in turn made me even more upset. Why isn't this getting any easier? I am still really, really hurting. It has been one hell of a year, to say the very least, but I have learned a lot about myself over this past year, and about other people. I wish you were here to guide me through it all, and I wish you were here to be an example for me - you always knew the best way to handle anything life threw at you.
I sat down on Monday night to write this "letter" to you and completely lost my shit, to the point I could barely breathe. If that doesn't tell you how painful this still is for me, I don't know what will.
I am dreading this "1 year" mark so much, because people are already thinking "how can you still be so sad", and I know that people just expect this to get easier, but it isn't. Its getting harder in a way. Not long after you left me, everyone else's lives resumed, but my world had literally been flipped upside down. That has been so hard - its so hard to see everyones worlds still spinning when mine has just been stopped.
Its still so unfair. I am envious of people who are getting pregnant around me and get to surprise their moms with the big news, I am envious of people who have kids who know their grandmas, I am envious of everyone who has never had to deal with a loss like this. It is hard, and it is unfair. You were my only safety, you were my rock, my mom, my best friend. Nothing ever is going to be able to fill that hole, and that sucks.
I see people every day - bad, bad people - who are lucky enough to live out their long, healthy lives, and I look at a woman like you, who was a legitimate angel on this earth, and I get angry. Still, to this day, it makes me mad. WHY? Why does someone this world needs more of have to go, and why do those horrible people get to live long lives?
So many questions consume me, still, and I have had to go through an incredible roller coaster over this entire year of questions, and more questions, and emotions, and epiphanies, and more emotions. Why - why was it so suddenly your time? Are you ok now? If there is life after this, are you ok? Why can everyone else "feel" you, but me - the most important person in the world to you - can't? Thats not fair. Am I doing something wrong? So, so many questions, and the intelligent part of me knows they will never, ever be answered, but the emotional part of me cannot stop asking.
Mom, I know you would be so proud of me - I sought help. I couldn't do it. I tried for months to cope on my own, but I couldn't do it. I found an incredible faith-based counselor, in search of answers, clarity, and an outlet. She is amazing, you would literally adore her. She is encouraging, and wonderful, and really has helped me understand that this whole journey is normal, and is very unique to me. One more thing that I KNOW you would be so proud of is my ability to cut toxic people out of my life. Truthfully, I had to do it. Without you, encouraging me and keeping my mind right, I had to let go of them. They were toxic. They were poisoning me, and without you I couldn't handle it anymore. So I channelled you, and I let them go. I wish we could share a glass of wine to celebrate that small victory.
I am so incredibly sorry that I couldn't look at your pictures for a good few months - it was just too painful. I would see your beautiful smile and your spirit in every. single. picture. and it would hit me like a ton of bricks every time that I can't see you again. So I had to take them all down. I hate that, I hate that I couldn't surround myself with you for a while. But as time goes on, the more pictures I restore to their rightful place in our home. And as painful as it is, still, for me to see you, I feel so much love for you with every picture I put back up.
I don't know where you are, I don't know how you are, I don't know if you are okay. I wish I could know. I just wish you were here so I could tell you how much I still need you and how hard every day has been without you.
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