Thursday, April 16, 2009

April 16, 2009

Dear Mom,

I've been avoiding writing more letters to you for a while. I'm not entirely sure why, except that I think I'm afraid writing to you will hurt more than having to function on a day to day basis, but I'm finding that to be entirely incorrect. Not writing to you, not communicating with you in any fashion dries my heart a little more each day until it is becoming nothing but a dehydrated husk, likely to poof into dust and disappear entirely if I'm not careful.

This time of year has yet again been full of firsts. My first easter without you. No coloring eggs and hiding them with the kids. No Easter dinner. My first spring without you and you know how much you loved spring. As soon as the snow was gone you'd be out there with the rototiller preparing the garden and pulling out all the dead stuff. You always loved being outside and my heart aches with your absence. And then of course there's the upcoming Mother's Day. Mother's Day. How can I celebrate when you're gone? I always looked forward to finding the perfect gift for you. I'd spend months thinking on it and saving money. Last year it was the digital camera you used on your trip to see Linda and your grandkids. Gary has it now. I wish you'd been able to get more use of it. This year I'd hoped to go see Celtic Woman with you. I know how much you loved their music and the joy it brought to your heart. You were the one who introduced them to me and made me love them not only because of their gift of music, but because they touched you so greatly. I loved them because you did. But you're not hear to share that with any longer. Who do I go to see them with? It's just not the same going without you.

I feel like I'm just being whiney after eight months, but the pain never goes away. I felt you near often at the beginning, but I don't feel you anymore and it makes me desperately depressed. I want to be with you, but I don't want to die to get there. Couldn't you sneak me a visitor's pass to Heaven? Just a day pass? I wish so much for even an hour to finish talking about everything that didn't get said. Did you hear me say good-bye? Did you feel me rub lotion into your feet in those last few hours? Did you feel me hold your hand as you took your last breath?

I wish so much I'd been with you that last night you were lucid. I wish I had remembered to bring things with me and had stayed at the hospital. The guilt over your going downhill every time I left your side still sits heavy with me. Is it my fault you died? All these questions plague me until I think I'm going to go insane with the pain of it, but still there are no answers. Who do I turn to when I have no wise parents or grandparents left to guide me?

I'm lost, Mom. Please, come and find me. Help me find myself once more.

Yours for eternity,