Soon, it will be one year since you left us. Not that you planned to. It was just time. You knew it and so did we.
I remember very clearly the day when we learned your fate. You remember what we did?
We denied, denied, denied.
There were no proven results and came up with other reasons for your pain. But the doctors were right; you had cancer.
You were dying.
But God, you were tough. Fragile. Angry. Fighting.
Do you remember what happened around this time last year? I’d be surprised. During the last two weeks, you were kind of going cuckoo up there. Not that I blame you. We did everything we could to keep your last weeks of life comfortable. It was hard and I’m so sorry we couldn’t do it.
And as painful as it is, I’m glad you waited for us to be alone with you when you had to leave. You couldn’t speak and your vision was probably fading too, but I’m so happy to have had that private moment as a family.
I’m trying to keep in mind all the happy memories too. To make this weekend more bearable. I’ll remember teaching you how to use the mouse (it was horrendous). I’ll remember all the cookies and brownies we made. I’ll remember you flipping the bird to the nurse as they checked your blood sugar. I saw the smile on your face – you hadn’t felt guilty in the slightest.
I’ll even remember showing you my tattoo with your name. Not just because you initially thought I was pregnant (I wasn’t), but because I’ll never forget your response.
“Why did you do that? What if I die? You’ll always have that reminder.”
Destiny was truly toying with us that day. But please don’t forget what I said.
“That’s even better. I’ll always have you with me.”
I love you, Mom.