December 2, 2012

Five Years: How Did I Get Here?

Dear Mom,

Five years. Five long, short, devastating, exhilarating, empty, fulfilled, blurry, memorable years without you.

I'll just come right out and say it. Enough with the excuses. It's not that I don't have the time to write, or that I have nothing left to say, or that I've found closure... it's that I honestly can't bring myself to log on anymore. I don't want to talk about your death anymore. I don't want to think about cancer anymore. I don't want to be reminded of life's struggles anymore. I just want to be feel normal; it's been five years! Shouldn't I feel normal again?

I'm frustrated because I know now that I'll never feel like my old self again. My heart will always, always, feel a void. And it breaks me.

I thought finding love would fill me-- and it does-- but then I'm left dreaming of what it would be like to see the two of you getting to know each other, exchanging quick-witted jokes, laughing, and loving me together. I thought moving away would separate me from the hurt, but it only does so in a physical sense, and I'm left missing my family, my old friends, our home, and feeling that closeness to the life we had together.

It's been five freaking years. How did I get here? It's truly such a blur, yet if I had another day with you I could fill it with the most incredible details of the life I've made for myself since the day I lost you.

I think the only thing I've really come to terms with is this:

Those random times I go from laughing to an absolute monumental meltdown; those nights I toss and turn and still recall so vividly the way you smelled and your warmth when you hugged me; those damn episodes of Grey's Anatomy that leave me a sobbing mess on the couch because it triggered a memory; those days I just have absolutely no idea which road is best for me and would give anything to hear your wisdom... Those moments aren't a sign of weakness; I know that now. Instead, those moments are a clear and direct reflection of the utterly amazing woman you were and just hard difficult-- no, impossible-- it's going to be to ever, ever stop missing you.

I love you,

7/19/1962 - 12/2/2007

July 19, 2012

Over the Hill?!

Dear Mom,

I thought I'd break my unintentional silence to wish you the happiest of birthdays this morning. Somewhere, in some way, you are celebrating your 50th year of a wonderful life that we all know was cut much too short. Is this the age they say you're 'Over the Hill'? Well, I certainly wish you were merely that far away from me.

A few months ago I drove the 8 hours home to Maine with my boyfriend to throw Dad a 50th surprise birthday party-- Harley Davidson themed, of course. And yes, I even tucked away my button-up sweaters and skinny-leg jeans for a night of bandanas, leather boots, and homemade ass-less chaps (and they say being in a sorority doesn't teach you anything?!). It was the best birthday party he said he ever had, complete with a video slideshow I made him to play at the local little bar we held it at that was always your favorite. The photos that reminded us that we used to be captured as a family of four had even my old high school friends tearing up, but I was smart to put it to "Sweet Child of Mine"-- who can cry during that anyway?! Weirdos.

Today I woke up wondering what we'd be doing to celebrate your 50th. I'm pretty sure you'd already be putting on that oh so up-to-date flowery one-piece bathing suit, grabbing a glass of caffeine-free diet Pepsi, and heading out to the pool with your sunglasses and whatever book was next on your chopping block. They better have that set up in Heaven for you; I think you've earned it.

Dad's love for motorcycles has only continued to grow over the years as his love for playing pool has lessened. What would you love even more today? Maybe cooking? Scrap booking? A Harley of your own?

The only answer I know would be true is... me. You would love me even more today.

I miss that love. I miss you.

But I am okay, I promise.

I am happy, but you see that, wherever you're watching me from.

But stop watching me today-- it's your day-- LET'S PARTY!

Happy 50th Mom.

I love you,

January 4, 2012

I'm Not In Kansas Anymore

Dear Mom,

Not that I ever was in Kansas...but I'm not in Maine anymore either!

I hardly had time to hit the publish button on my last post before I was packing my bags and visiting my boyfriend. I went down to see him with no return date in mind, and actually ended up not coming home at all except for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was spontaneous and absolutely crazy, but, three months later, I find more and more reasons to be happy every day.

Going from long distance to no distance was an easier transition than either of us thought. After only three months of knowing each other, taking a "leap of faith" was a complete understatement. Regardless, we went for it. Moving in together so quickly was a 100% make it or break it kind of thing, and surprisingly, I feel like I've been here with him for years. I can't wait to be.

Looking back on it, I can't explain why on Earth I even thought this was a good decision in the first place-- it was so reckless and unlike me-- but it just felt right. And it continues to feel that way. Sure, we've had our arguements; we've learned what it's like to see each other every day rather than to just talk constantly over the phone; we've had to make adjustments to help make our lives mesh. But like I said, I'm happy, and the only times I really cry are when I take a look at my life and wish so badly you were enjoying it with me. Will that pain ever go away?

As for my new job, new friends, this new place, etc.? There's more information to come. Hold tight!

I love you,