5

Dear Mom,

I haven't had a lot of dreams of you recently. I also haven't cried a lot recently, though if I let myself feel it, I will fall to pieces. I can tell I've been bottling things up, holding them in, as if I let them go, I'll let you go. I know it's irrational, but I can't help it.

The video/audio I seem to be constantly replaying is the 36 hours before you died, over and over and over. It's driving me crazy, Mom. I just keep hearing me tell you I love you, and hearing your whispered voice telling me you love me too. I keep hearing your breathing and wishing on everything I can that you'd have lived, that the evil cancer would have stopped or slowed...I swear I cried so hard for you in those hours. Fell to my knees and down on the ground, wrapped in myself so much and kept so quiet as I cried. It was not loud or obnoxious, just tears falling, falling.

I'm sort of glad that Dad wasn't awake to watch you die too, because it would have been too hard for him. One of the hardest things we've ever done, after saying goodbye to David that day, was Dad and me walking back to your room hand in hand and crying. We talked quickly and I suggested to him we tell you how much we love you, and that you didn't have to fight anymore--that you could let go and didn't have to stay here in pain for us. It bothered me because I couldn't tell if you were still cognizant of things or not. I hated to think that your mind was still completely well and we were telling you to die...I think you understood though. By then your kidneys had failed and you probably weren't very aware of things, though you often could listen to us.

I still miss you so much it physically pains me sometimes. I can't listen to certain songs because they make me think of you. Of praying for your death to be quick and painless, of praying and hoping for the cancer to stop, disappear. I wondered if God Himself had heard me, and I wasn't sure. I hated the thought He hadn't heard me.

Death is such a terrible thing. I simply can't seem to get a handle on things that I need to. I keep trying to get things done around the house and I just CAN'T SEEM to get a grip. I keep wishing that I could rewind the world to Early-Mid June, back when life was seemingly perfect. Then I could tell you to just go to the Dr and get that hysterectomy, and not worry about the repercussions of it. I sometimes wish you'd have listened to me, but even by the time we talked about that, it was probably too late. The outcome might have been the same, and the devil himself is making me think it might not have been the same, that you'd still be alive. I tell myself I'm being tricked by his evil. I am still trying to relearn how to trust God after this happened. I am so scared to do it since He didn't save you...

I'm trying to be a good girl, Mom. I'm trying to get better about this. I'm still so depressed, I sometimes feel so very alone. Oh Mom--I wish I could still hug you. I wish I could feel your arms around mine and eat your good cooking, for us to talk and laugh and love together. I still needed you here; why did you get taken away?

I love you, forever and always.

Love,
Christy