It's been 36 weeks tonight into tomorrow.
How has it been that long since I've held you?
How has it only been that long?
Will Fridays always hurt this much? Will I ever feel "normal" again?
I go to things, and I miss you. You were always my sidekick. Even if you weren't physically present (and you usually were) I was always aware of you: where you were, what was going on, how you were doing, who was taking care of you; an ever present presence.
Now you're where I cannot reach you, see you, hold you, talk to you.
And I don't know how to do this!
Honestly, sometimes those waves of grief aren't so bad. They're more than just lapping at my toes, but they don't knock me over. But sometimes, like now, they hit with hurricane force, pushing me down, holding me under, drowning me. And they seem to strike out of the clear blue without warning.
Someone once told me the difference between alone and lonely is that alone is a choice, and lonely is a feeling, often in the middle of a crowd. I'm lonely without you.
I miss you.
Love,
Mama
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