Momma

It’s been just over a month, but already too long. I talk to you daily. I ask you questions and I wonder what you would say. Every day. Every day I want to call you, ask for your advise, your opinion, tell you about something that happened or what the kids are up to. I’ve reached for my phone so many times, to text you or to catch a moment that I think you’d enjoy, but then I remember you’re no longer there on the other side to see my messages or the photos, to tell me what to do or make a comment about how quickly my kids are growing.

I miss you. I miss you and I want you back. You once said to me, “Don’t get mad, but you do know that I’m your best friend?”. I was shocked that you thought I would get upset, or that you thought that I didn’t think that as well. Of course I knew you were my best friend. There was no one else in the world that I enjoyed being with more, trusted more with my secrets or who I felt more comfortable and safe with.

I have my kids now, but they don’t fill the void. It’s like you all have pieces inside my heart, and their pieces cannot cross over to fill the one that you left.

I’ve wanted to write this for you every day since you left, but I could never bring myself to do it. It felt like it would solidify everything, like I would be giving up on you and admitting defeat. But today, I feel like I need to do something for you. I felt lost all day. Like I should be doing something or forgetting something or I was letting you down. Like how I would feel if I had forgotten your birthday. But I was helpless, because I couldn’t just pick up the phone and say “Happy birthday mommy! Sorry I forgot, but I’ll make it up to you now!”.

I miss you momma. I’m sorry I didn’t do more. I’m sorry I left your side that first night, when you were still able to talk. You were sleeping, but I should have stayed so we could have talked in the morning. By the time I got back, it was too late.

I’m sorry you were in pain, and I didn’t push the doctors harder to find out why. We all assumed it was the cancer.

I’m sorry for anytime that I may have made you feel lesser, for every time I hurt you or disregarded what you were feeling. For not understanding or being short with you. For not giving you more hugs and for not saying I love you everyday.

I love you momma. I miss you and I want you back.