It’ll be a whole two months since you died tomorrow. I’m still really waiting for it to hit me. I don’t think it ever will. I don’t think this is the type of thing that hits you in one big wave, the kind of blow that sends all the air whistling out of your lungs. It’s like having a rotting tooth, a dull omnipresent ache. It never goes away.
I haven’t been thinking about you much lately, but I’ve been thinking about you all the time. I still feel like there are things you could have taught me, and things I could’ve taken the time to learn. Unfortunately, neither of us have any choice in that anymore. I remember the last time we really talked, it was fantastic. I don’t quite know 100 per cent why that night I decided to open up the floodgates and lower all my defenses. I remember when you told me you were going to be fine.
That didn’t quite happen, but neither did a lot of things. That’s why I’m trying to live every day to be a bit better than I was the day before. I know you said you’d always be watching over me, and I still want to believe that — even if I don’t believe in God anymore. I still feel like you’re here sometimes, when I’m lonely and sad and I look at the moon, like you used to tell me to when I was lonely and sad. I like to think you’re still looking at the same thing whenever I do. I like to think a lot of things.
You were right about everything mom, and now I’ve got to spend the next however many hours I have left learning to accept that. I need to push myself further in the little things, and not let the little things push me around. Let it roll off my back, “walk it off, snack fairy,” and so on. There are times when I need to let go, and let what’s going to happen happen.
It still doesn’t seem all that fair. I know plenty of wretched people who are still breathing, but you didn’t get that same opportunity. You deserve to be here more than they do, and I’m still angry whenever I think about that.
Mom, I wish you were still around to help me with these things. I wish you could have seen what I’ve learned in these last two months about myself, about the people around me, about love and loss and anger and grief and hate and confusion and crying, so much crying.
Maybe I’ll tell that to the moon tonight, and maybe you’ll smile.
Best wishes, I love your head.