I’d planned on writing this later this month, but I find myself unable to keep it to myself.
It’s been twelve years since you died. I remember thinking I’d never survive to this point and yet here I am. I miss you, I’d like to say after twelve years the grief has faded but it hasn’t. It’s become like a dull ache centered in the middle of my chest. Some days are better than others, but most days I can think of a thousand times I’d love to be able to call you to talk to you.
It’s funny the things I miss after twelve years. When you first died I missed your presence, I literally missed you. I wanted you back where you belonged. I still do, though this has lessened some only because as time went on I got used to you not being here. When I realized I was getting used to you being gone I felt guilty. I honestly thought I should never get used to it, I realize now that’s unrealistic and unhealthy. I know I have to make my life something I want to live, I can’t stay stuck in my grief.
Even though I’ve learned to let go of the loss I still miss so much about you. I miss your laugh and your cooking. I miss the way you could cut through my bullshit and tell me exactly what I needed to hear. I miss things I never got to experience, like talking to you about love or what it’s like to raise children.
Throughout the last twelve years I’ve been in plenty of situations where the only thing I’ve been able to think is “I want my mom.” This past year I felt that everyday. Every single day I thought how much I wanted you here, how much I needed you. There were days where I didn’t think I would make it, I didn’t think I could survive anymore and in the back of my head I heard you telling me I can’t give up. I remembered what you told me the night before you died, that I need to live, I need to be happy and it kept me going. Even when I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and quit I kept going.
I’d like to say that after twelve years I’m finally ok with you not being here but I don’t think I can. I don’t think I’ll ever really be ok with it, I’ve learned to live without you and I’ve learned to deal with the grief but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say it’s ok that you’re gone. I’ve fought a lot with myself about whether that makes me weak and I don’t really have an answer for myself.
I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last twelve years, and a lot about life. I’ve struggled and I’ve made plenty of mistakes. Still, I think if you were here you’d be proud of me, I think you’d like who I am. Sometimes I feel bad that it’s taken me twelve years to find some kind of peace with your loss, and other times I’m amazed I’ve found any peace at all. I think after twelve years of anguish I’m ready to let go, to accept life without you. I’ll still miss you and there will still be times when all I can think is ‘I want my mom’ but I think I’m ready to be ok.