Thursday, September 29, 2011

04/20/60 - 09/05/11

I buried my mother on September 24th.

That same day two years prior I saw her in Las Vegas, all smiles, prepared and excited to walk her first born down the aisle.

I buried my mother next to her father in a small cemetery that is filled with other people I have lost over the last 30 years. I hugged my family members and stood next to my husband and wept like a child. The last three weeks of sadness, frustration, and anger pouring out of me like a river. I don't remember much of the short service or what the pastor said. I just remember gripping the tiny golden urn in my hand which held a small amount of her ashes. I placed a single red rose beside her grave. My sister and I held each other and cried. All I could do was stroke her shiny brown hair and tell her that everything would be okay. One day.

I spent my 2nd wedding anniversary sorting through the last 51 years of my mother's life. Paperwork, clothing, belongings, all had to be cleared out. Tying up her loose ends will take more time than I really care to think about.

I find that I have to correct myself now. Present tense to past tense. Old habits are hard to break. But I know that everything will be okay. We will all be okay. One day.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


Dear Mom,

I'm just so angry and hurt. Why did you put all of this on us? The people who loved you most. We almost never got along, but I thought it was getting better. Then it stopped.

The last time I heard your voice I yelled at you in anger. I called you a liar. I'm sorry that I never got the chance to say goodbye to you. I'm sorry that the last thing I said to you was not "I love you" but was said out of anger and frustration. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. And most importantly I'm sorry that I couldn't take away your pain.

Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for putting a roof over my head. Thank you for passing on your good traits to me. And thank you for the relief you brought to me and to Gramma today.

I didn't think this would be so hard, but it is.

I hope you're finally at peace and that your demons no longer haunt you. And I hope that one day I can finally make sense of all of this.

I love you and I always have. I hope you know that.

Goodbye, Mom.