Another year inches towards mother’s day, and you know what? I feel ready. Ok, maybe not ready, but settled in. You have been gone now for 12 years. As of Monday, we will have known that fact for 6 years. I don’t know if it was because 2010 was the year of loss (your mom, my dad) but I think I finally get it.
Everyone dies. I am not alone in my grief. I am not unique or special in this way AT ALL.
Some of my most strong memories were as a kid, ’round about the age I got social—maybe 4th grade or so—you used to tell me I was such a drama queen (oh if you only knew). You used to tell me I made such a big production out of the smallest things. I thought I was the only one who had endured my pain: my very specific hurts and heartaches. You know what mom? I WAS the only one. And also, you were right. It did not make me any more special or give me any more reason to be given attention. What I never learned, until recently I guess, is that like Michael Stipe says “everybody hurts, sometimes.” No no no, I’m not alone.
I am sorry you aren’t around to see me finally learn what you tried to impart all those years ago. But don’t worry, I still attribute you for these lessons. I always will. I love you, and miss you more than I can possibly say.