Dear Mom.


There is nothing I can say today that I haven't already said over the years. The days get easier as time moves on. We are slowly healing from the wounds that were left after you were gone...but those deep wounds and holes of emptiness get filled with things that aren't real.

The days still come. Swiftly at first. And then less so. But they come whether we want them to or not, whether we expect them or not. We just know how to navigate through the choppy waters a little better now.

Every day I miss something about you...both of you. I can't express in words what it's like to live on a planet without you. Suddenly, I am aware of being exposed and completely alone - naked on a boat in the middle of the ocean with no oars and no land in sight. It feels uncomfortable and so unfamiliar.

You look for ways to make it more comfortable...more tolerable. But soon you realize that nothing works to heal it. It just "is." You have to go through it now. You just have to paddle somehow with what you have and get to the other side.

I have been paddling for 9 years. Nine. That's a long time. But today, instead of resting, I will keep paddling. I will keep moving towards something...towards a shoreline of something bigger than me. And in it, I will try to enjoy the adventure. Embrace the unknown.  I will use everything you gave me and taught me and showed me and said to me as a compass...a guiding light to bring me home.