I don’t talk to you like I used to. I don’t reach out anymore for signs or some form of connection. At this point, I’m not really sure I know how anymore. If you were here… I honestly don’t know where I would start. I hate to say it but when you left it was both a relief and a never ending bitter longing that I never thought I would overcome. I think for the most part I’m just really angry right now. Not necessarily at you, because I know that everything that happened was out of your control, but more so at the universe. Life is hard. I wish that you would have told me that. And maybe you tried. Or maybe you thought you didn’t have to since we lived the life we lived. I wish I could have gotten a heads up on some of this, instead of the little bits you gave me… the parts that were surrounded by hearts and flowers.
I wish that I would have gotten more time to be a “normal” family. I wish you would have been there for me in those times that I really needed you. I feel like I am told all of the time that I am wise beyond my years because of how fast I had to grow up. But i feel like people give me more credit than I deserve sometimes, because honestly, most of the time I have no idea what I’m doing.
I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life. And normally in times like this I choose to run right or left. Way out of center. Towards something huge. I just take off without thinking. And right now I’m tired, and I’m sick of running, and I’m sick of reaching goals and working so hard. Right now, just standing here. And I know I’m just going to walk forward. I’m going to stay on this path. But I’m ready for time to slow down.
Why didn’t you tell me about my babies? You told me about everything else. Why didn’t you tell me about how things would end up?
I get that Mothers try to protect their children by omitting information for their own well being… but why tell me anything at all then? Why include numbers and specific information?
J asked me to read her the other day… with your cards. And sitting on her front porch I said I couldn’t. I’m tired. And I’m sick of knowing and not knowing. And finding shit out. Right now, I don’t want to know anything. I want my head to stop hurting and I want support. Instead, I find myself mostly being a bitch. Shutting down. I feel bad for my family. There is no outlet for this. No answer, so to speak. And maybe if you were here you would be able to offer me what I need. Quiet, unconditional, quiet. Jason knows when he walks in if I’m having a good day or bad. And most of the time he retreats as too not have my toxic moodiness, spew all over him. And I can’t blame him. I wouldn’t know what to do with me either. But you would. Because it’s at times like these that I see the most of you in me. When I’m tired and I need quiet and I need people to leave me alone so I can let the quiet sort things out in my head. I walk the house, read my books, drink my coffee, and disappear. Nothing gets done. And I look in the mirror and I see you. I see you when Jack looks at me asking me, begging me, to play… and I just want quiet. I just want to sit in my chair, drink my coffee, and do nothing.
You were so good to us. Just like there are times that I am so good to him. But i think i carry the negative with the positive that came with you… and it overflows. This is not my grief cup spilling over. This is me being angry at you for being gone so long.
I like to think that if you could have you would have been here. I like to think that if you hadn’t gotten so sick you would have stuck around and spoiled all of these babies. You would have attended all of the concerts and award ceremonies for these fantastic kids that I go to, because they have no one else, other than their own Momma to attend. I would like to think that you would have woo-hoo’d your ass off when I graduated last Spring. And you would have held my hand when i put my baby in the ground. You would have been there when I was lost. And you would have helped me put my pieces back together.
I hope you see the things I try to do, that you always did, for us. I hope you see my Christmas tree up in the beginning of December. The notes to Santa and the cookies. I hope you see the unconditional love your children pour out onto their kids. I hope you see how we try to keep it together and try not to get angry with each other, even when one of us is being a word class jerk. I hope you see how we try to make our marriages work, even when it’s really, really hard. And I hope you see us, every year in January, just missing the shit out of you.
I hope you have found the love you deserved up there. And hope you’re enjoying baby B and A… but I refuse to send you anymore of my children. So hands off, okay? I hoped you’re rollerskating, like J dreamed. And I hope you can watch as the kids are growing up into the most awesome young people that I know. I hope you can hear every time I share bits of your life with Jack, even though he has no idea who you are.
We all miss you. We’re pretty pissed about it, actually. If you can work some of your magic, try to make sure no more shit gets fucked up here, K?
Love and Miss you Momma,