Hi there mom,
How are you (wherever you are)?
Today is your birthday. It is a normal Thursday. A day that started off like any other. Except for the knowing that you were gone.
Grief. It wrenches us from the normality of the day into a deep dark chasm from which we fear we will never emerge. My heart aches so so much.
I miss you mom. I want you to be sitting opposite me, in this beautiful vintage booth with its plush upholstered seats, pretending we are members of the 50s rat pack, sipping coffee and laughing. I miss laughing. With you.
Tears. They roll so freely when I think of the rest of my life without you. Cold.
How on earth do people manage it? How do they carry on? How did you carry on when your mother died so young? Did you think about her every single day? Did you want to call her countless times in a week just to hear her voice? Did you ache to tell her your celebrations and to be comforted when life handed you tragedy? Did you pray that her spirit was somewhere close by, always? Did it get any easier?
Birthdays. A day of celebration. Not today. Not for me.
No daughter should be without her mother too early. Ever. It tears the fabric of her existence. Father time, feel free to step in any time to heal this grief.
I want to tell you all the everyday things that happen in our life, mom. I can’t seem to find the words.
Instead, know that you were more significant than I think you ever realised, that you touched everyone who met you, that you meant and mattered so much. Know that love is too little a word to describe how I feel about you.
Have a good long rest, mom. Mizpah.
From my heart to yours,