Letters continued ...

Momma,

I write this letter during a time that I feel better about your death. Just a few weeks ago, I don’t think that I could have gotten through this letter without breaking down into tears. It’s weird. After two years … you think that living without my mom would get easier. It doesn’t.

I mean, what did you ever do for me anyway? All of the things that you said that you would do … usually never happened. Do you know how many times I waited and MawMaw’s and PawPaw’s for you to come by and pick me up, but something else more important came up and you never showed?

For most of my life, I wasn’t the daughter … I was the mother. I had to be the strong one while you fell into your pills and “depression.” That year and a half that I lived with you nearly was my downfall. Dreading the ride home because I never knew if you were going to be still in bed … or if you were going to be bright eyed on the couch waiting to get home and be the mother that you were always supposed to be.

And yet, this is still difficult. Every day, waking up and knowing that you aren’t just a phone call away. When I used to get into an argument with someone, you would always be the one that I could call and you would just agree with everything that I said … whether I was in the wrong or not. I still need that sometimes to this day … and you aren’t there for me.

My brother, your son, just had a beautiful baby boy and he’ll never know his grandma. All because you were so selfish! Why mom? Why? I thought that you were finally getting your life together. We all that you were in a good place in your life, finally … after 38 years of struggling. And then we get that surprise phone call and nothing has been the same since.

Do you know what you are missing out on? Do you know how much I miss you? Do you know how much I want to crawl into your lap like a little girl and smell your smell? I miss being close to you. I miss watching television together. I miss all of our talks. I miss all of our arguments. I miss you so much, it makes my bones hurt. I have this deep ache for you, and I can’t figure out why.

I don’t have the closure maybe. But I don’t know if I will ever have the closure … how can I have closure when I don’t even know what happened or why?

Help me, Momma. Help me to be the woman that you always wanted me to be. Help me to take the hurt that I have and turn it into something that can be productive. Help me to love you without the anger. Help me to miss you without the anger. Help me to get over this grief.

I love you and I miss you more than I ever thought possible,
Your daughter … who is now a wife, an aunt, and a teacher … all things that you never got to see.