December 29th 2018 my mom died of melanoma cancer.
She didn't tell us how bad it was, until one week before she was gone.
I write her a letter every month.
Because it is hard to say goodbye to your mom.
You've been gone for two months now.
It makes me sad to realize, i'm getting used to you being gone. The pain of losing you, it's different, then when you first left. It's more like accepting this dull empty ache, that's now a part of my life. It's there everyday, but the shock of it all, is fading. I'm just trying to pick up all the broken pieces. It is not going well.
It feels like a bomb went off in my life. The dust is settling, but looking at the aftermath is daunting.
I find myself feeling guilty for moving on with my life. As if I should stay still longer. I know there would be no point in that. It is not like holding my breath, will bring you yours back, but wouldn't that be nice?
I'd love another phone call. Just one. Maybe you could pencil that in? Or one more visit. I guess that's the part that still really hits me. Knowing all my 'one more's' ran out. I know now, I took you for granted, in some ways. I thought you'd always be a phone call away. I didn't know my last hug, was really the last. I would have held on longer, if I knew.
I still miss you, so very much. I don't think that will ever stop. I am starting to see that the world doesn't slow down or stop, because you're gone, even if I still have trouble standing up. The world goes on. They don't know you left. It is crazy how that works. Your whole life can change so fast, but the ripples aren't big enough for anyone else to see.
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