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.”
No comments:
Post a Comment