It's been almost a year since I wrote to you, but though I've missed you desperately, I just couldn't bring myself to write to you. I guess I've been a little angry that you were gone, and in part have been trying to move on. Unfortunately, I forgot that moving on cannot involve stuffing my feelings. It only makes me explode just like you and Grandma used to. I am not a pressure cooker, even though sometimes my heart tries to trick me into thinking that I am.
Tonight I am remember you and have shed many tears throughout the day. This was the last day I saw you alive, fully functional, cognizant, and totally yourself. I came home late from some activity and saw your light was still on so I came downstairs to talk to you and there you were, like so many times before, sitting in bed reading with only the tops of your pajamas on. Bright, red silk, I remember, and as soon as you saw me your face lit up and you welcome me. You always had a way of doing that. Making me feel important just by being with you. I miss that. I doubt myself much too often anymore and long for your encouragement and love.
I don't even know what to tell you, Mom. It has been an eventful year full of joy and sorrow and pain and excitement. My book is slowly building and is getting decent reviews, which thrills me to no end. I know you would say, "well of course. I wouldn't expect anything different." I can hear you say it even now, but you know I've always wondered if I was really capable of doing this. Even now as I write book two I doubt myself and it is only Gary's blessing and the promise that you will be there helping that keeps me going.
I miss you so much sometimes I can't stop the tears and the mask I wear so often slides off my face like mud. I still wonder how you can be gone? And why did you have to leave then, just before so many good things finally happened? Why couldn't you stay long enough to see the success after watching all the years of struggle?
Every once in a while I hear your voice as if you're in the room. It's so YOU in my head that it's like you're here, and I hope you are. I miss having you here. You were gone for a long time and I missed you terribly. Even tonight, though I hear you and feel you, the tears still fall because I want you to be here. This was NOT the way I wanted to get more space in the house. I thought you'd be around for so much longer and just ache that I didn't realize you weren't coming home until it was too late. I would have spent every single second with you if I'd known. I'd have done polarity to ease the pain non-stop. Anything to help you.
Sometimes I wonder who I am with you gone. I feel like I'm having to figure out who I am all over again. Who am I without you? I know that you're happy. You showed me that. But--I feel so empty without y0u. Why did you have to leave me? I wish I'd known earlier what your problems were so I could have taken you to the doctor and gotten you in better shape. Part of me feels so guilty still that you are gone, that it's my fault for not taking care of you, that maybe Mark or Collette could have done a better job than I did. But I loved having you here. I loved waking up and coming to say good morning and sitting down to visit and sometimes eat with you. I miss your quiet strength and absolute faith. I miss our conversations.
I didn't get enough time with you, Mom. I don't think it would have ever been enough time, but I wanted so much more. I miss you every minute of every day--though sometimes more than others. Today is a bad one because of what I remember. It's one of my most precious memories, and red always was your color. I miss you sense of humor, Mom. I miss you bending over and kissing my forehead when you would walk by, and the way you always reached out to me when we sat near one another. I miss YOU.
I hope on nearing this two year anniversary that you are still happy on the other side and have been able to accomplish the missions you were sent there to do. I hope you are loving your time with Daddy and long for the day we can all be together again, though I know my time is still far off. I've got a lot to do first.
And I haven't forgotten your life story, Mom. I just haven't been able to write it as of yet, nor do I think I'll be able to write it the way you would have. I write novels, not non-fiction. You may become a based on a true story kind of book, because I don't know how else to write it. I hope you'll be okay with that and that I won't disappoint you with it.
I love you, Mom. I'll try to write more often. This week is super busy, but I'm glad, actually. It will keep me distracted and hopefully writing on the days that were the hardest of my life. I need the distraction. I hope you'll forgive me.
Yours for all eternity,