Thoughts About Mom

I am still so damned unhappy with mom dying when she did.  Sure, I am ready to do life without her.  She did a good job, and raised me right. What I am not ready for is days without being able to have a chat with mom when I want to hear her say, “I love you,” in the way only she ever did.  I am not ready to go months without being able to chat with her about what is going on, and what we have planned next, like I used to do.  I am not ready to go on without hearing her say how beautiful my children are, so I could know how happy they make her.  I am not ready to live without sharing joy with her.  And that’s what I miss above all.  Sharing joy with mom, the way we did for so many years. 

I miss her smile, her laugh, her willingness to pack away all the negative, and look at the bright side, just to make others smile, even when she had lost all hope already.  I miss what she gave of herself.  I miss what she was.  I miss her simple beauty.  I miss her complexity.  I miss her voice, and I miss her silence…  her deliberate silence.  Her silence now was not intended.  Her silence right now is never ending.  And in her words, it sucks. 

I try to tell myself she was just being her usual self and not being a burden on anyone for her end of life.  Truth is, she would be damned well a burden on any and all, just to be with her grandkids, her kids, her family.  The truth is, her death kills.  Her burden bears heavy.  The cold box where she decays does not need her, does not deserve her, but the bastard wants everyone, and takes all.  I don’t resent it for wanting me.  I resent it for taking her too soon. 

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