Monday, December 23, 2024

12 Butterflies...

Dear Aaron,

Twelve butterflies...

For the 12 months since you left.

One for each month flutters on your grave.

(again, HOW is that a sentence???) 

I'm not doing so good here. We got home last night from Gramma's funeral and I'm angry! I'm lashing out at people who haven't done anything to me. I hurt and I ache, and I just don't know how to work with this.

Last night Daddy asked me what he could do and I told him to make Grampa's brain work again and bring you and Gramma back...

And I sobbed. 

I know last year was really my first Christmas without you, but I think I was still pretty numb. 

This one just hurts. And my mama is gone, too, and my daddy is struggling. 

So I guess I'll cry (and sob and wail). I feel alone, I mean, I guess that makes sense since grief is so individual. But I've felt like I was on the outside looking in for a long time. When you were here, it was hard (and frankly not safe) to do a lot of thing with a lot of other people, especially during the winter. And after 14 years, it's hard to break that habit. 

It's dark and cold and I don't know, just... hard.

It seems so strange that it's been a year already, and still only a year. 

I miss you.

Love,
Mama

“We all want to do something to mitigate the pain of loss or to turn grief into something positive, to find a silver lining in the clouds. But I believe there is real value in just standing there, being still, being sad.”

— John Green

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