I miss you. Everyday, I miss you. But today, I especially miss you. My heart is still aching and each day, I feel a longing for you I didn’t feel the day before. You were my guide and my example. Through you, I learned how to be me. So much of who I am is wrapped up in you: How I decorate my home. My desire to perfect recipes. My love of the mountains. My independence. It wasn’t until your last years I realized how much I am like you; how much I am like my mother. I still can’t believe you’re gone. Some days, it still feels like a dream.
Thank you for loving me, for spoiling me. Thank you for teaching me, for encouraging me. Thank you for believing in me, for supporting me. I am better because of you.
I decided when someone we love dies, there’s a hole in our hearts where they used to be. The hole doesn’t hurt constantly, but sometimes, things happen to make us painstakingly aware of the hole. Today, I feel the hole. Today, it’s gaping. Thanksgiving was hard, and I don’t want to have Christmas without you. I want to skip it entirely because you are my Christmas memories. It hasn’t felt like Christmas since you first got sick, but this year, it feels especially bleak.
You taught me strength and not to wallow, but today, you’ll have to forgive me. Today, I’m going to curl up under your quilt and cry because you’re not here. Today, the hole in my heart seems bigger than usual. I love you still. And I miss you terribly. Happy birthday.
((((((Victoria))))))
I know exactly how you feel. When my Grammy died in 1994 (I still cannot believe it’s been that long), I feel like the earth’s axis shifted. I felt like the whole world rotated differently. And honestly, it’s never quite gone back to “normal”.
I too am like my mother, but even she will tell you that I am so much more like my Grammy. My stubborn nature & refusal to give up comes directly from her. I watched her live through 12 major strokes & probably 1000 TIA’s starting in 1973. She learned how to walk & talk all over again more times than I can count. All of that taught me that until God calls you home, life ain’t over & you’d better get all you can out of it.
So here I sit, 44 years old & 18 years after she died, crying because I know EXACTLY how you feel. And the only words I can offer you that mean anything are these, I love you, kiddo!
(My last post about my Grammy – http://princessladybug.blogspot.com/2011/05/still-miss-you.html – just in case it might help you to feel better.)