I miss my Mom with every fiber of my being. I would trade almost anything in my life just to hear her laugh again or to watch her smirk at me for saying something inappropriate. I really just miss her... I miss my Mom.
I am still bitter that she is dead. It is very difficult for me to not roll my eyes when people write negatively about their own Mother's on facebook. When people write FML (the traffic sucks and I am late or the line at Starbucks is too long or I forgot my lunch or I got a silly traffic ticket), I want to slap them through the computer screen.
I am bitter that my Mom, a woman who dedicated her life to her family, her community, and acquaintances had to die when all of these crappy loser Moms seem to live forever. I am bitter that my Mom, a midwife who was obsessed with babies, doesn't get the opportunity to delight in her grandchildren. I am bitter that I have to go through life without being able to consult the person that I respected and trusted most in life. I am bitter that she had to leave my Dad alone. I am bitter that she left before we were ready.
I still struggle with the memories of her passing. It was all so terrible and violent and scary. I wake up in the middle of the night remembering rubbing her lifeless body and petting her face, not wanting to stop touching her, knowing I would never be able to touch her again. I can't think about any of it without tearing up and I often lay in bed battling with the memories.
Right around 9 months, I turned a corner in my grief process and became less desperately sad. I am stable now. I don't cry every day anymore. I don't wish I could drown into the bottom of a wine bottle anymore. I don't feel emotionally distant from my daughter anymore. I don't feel like leaving my husband due to being emotionally over-whelmed anymore.
At one year, I can say that I am healing. Slowly. Surely. I wish I didn't have to. But I am.
**like always, the comments have been turned off for this post but feel free to email me if you'd like**