Dear Mom,
I've been bottling things up again. I have waves of good and bad days, and I guess in recent weeks I've just kinda been...rather than anything else. The last week or so has been one of tremendous stress and upset, and I think that is having an affect on me.
Last night things came to a head and I lost it. I was listening to music with Tim and I just started to bawl, unable to stop the tears running down my face. Certain TV shows open the wounds just slightly, touching on a death of a mother in main characters' lives, and how they interact and respond to it...it's like ripping off a scab. It bleeds, and still hurts, but not as much as the regular injury.
My heart is still broken and I still cry when I think of it. Of you. And of the last words we spoke to each other, which were I love you and We're Ok and We're forgiven. I remember after David left, Dad and I walked hand in hand down the Boston street, and we decided that you needed to hear that we gave you permission to die. You were hanging on for us, and we didn't want you to hurt anymore. We walked to the room and we said we knew it sounded stupid to hear but we wanted you to know that it was OK to go. That we loved you, didn't want you to hurt anymore. We knew you could hear us and we knew how ridiculous it was that we gave you permission to die...your brain still worked, you had cognitive function...and here we were, telling you to die! We cried so hard when we told you that. It was for the best, and we didn't know what else to do. We didn't want you to suffer. Never wanted to have you suffer. And we sounded like idiots.
Those final hours, I sometimes can't remember them. Sometimes they are clouded. Other times I remember them as if I lived them yesterday. I remember your voice, but sometimes it slips away from me. I still want to call you and get your advice on things, and it takes ALL I HAVE not to call your old cell phone, which is still programmed in mine. I can't yet delete it as a contact. I'm trying to be ok. I'm still mad at a lot of things. Trying to find forgiveness and grace and love in a world that has left me broken and unable. There's just a lot of little things. I miss you more and more each day, Mom. I don't like not having you around. I still needed you here. And you were taken from me. That's the part I really hate.
I love you, forever and always.
Love,
Christy
