This morning, I got to really thinking about, and missing, you. It has been 10 years since you have passed away. I was a scared, horrified, and trauma stricken 15-year-old when I saw you laying lifeless in that bed. My worst nightmare came true the day you went to heaven. You were my best friend. I know that you are in a much better place and that father is with you now. For that, I am happy.
I have never done this before, or even thought about doing this. And, quite frankly, the thought of writing this letter to you terrifies me. I need to do this. I need to think that I am talking to you. I wish I could be embraced in one of your warm, motherly hugs. I wish I could be kissed on the cheek or forehead by you as you tell me how much you love me, call me pumpkin, and say that you are proud of me. I so long to hear your voice and smell you again. I can’t imagine you anymore and that really scares me. It terrifies me knowing that you will never hold my children or meet my future husband. It scares me that you are no longer at any ceremony celebrating lifetime achievements. Often, I get jealous of other people who do have their parents there for them. I have endured many birthdays and two (almost three) graduations without you.
I will be graduating with my master’s degree in less than a month. I have maintained a 4.0 (I have your brains-that’s what dad always told me). Truth is, I did it for you. You have always been so proud of my academic work. I have pushed myself to succeed in academics for your memory and in honor of you.
I wondered today if you would be proud of me. Proud of the woman I have become. I tell myself that you would be. I also wonder how different life would be if you were still here.
I have really be struggling with life since father passed away this spring. It has gotten so hard and I am so lonely. I will keep pushing through for you because you wouldn’t have it any other way. I will keep my faith in God because you raised me that way and taught me to love and trust in Him.
Often, I just suppress memories of you because they hurt so much. But, my therapist is really helping me learn to talk about you and finally come to acceptance with your death. I am getting there. Slowly. I will keep trying.
I love you and miss you so, so, so, so much mom. I am trying to keep myself from crying as I write this at work. I shouldn’t have done it here, but I need to get this off my mind. Again, I love you so much and I cannot wait to see you again.
Your Baby Girl