Six weeks have passed, since you took your last breath. The time continues to tick by, and life moves forward. The grief has softened, but it never leaves. Instead, it lies in wait, somewhere deep inside of me, until the trigger appears. It can be as simple as a song, a word, a smell … a thought, and the overwhelming emotion bubbles up and out in waves. It washes over me, reminding me that this is real.
There are no words to describe how much I miss you. How desperately I long to call you and hear your sing-song greeting when you picked up. I used to tease you about that … it was something you’d picked up from years of working in customer service. I don’t think I ever told you that it was often the highlight of my day.
I hope, more than anything, that you are happy. I hope that you are free from your pain and suffering, and that you can still feel our love for you.
You are so deeply loved.
Happy Family Day, Mom. It’s not the same without you.