My dearest Mother,
I can’t believe you’ve been gone for 5 years now. It feels like just yesterday that you were here with us, helping me figure out this thing called life. At the same time, it feels like an eternity since I saw you last. So much has changed and yet so little. I’m still a procrastinator. I’m still a bookworm. I’d still rather sit and home and watch TV than go out and party. I’m still your little girl.
You’ve missed so much over the last 5 years. I started at a new school and changed my major to early childhood education. Then I changed it to English Education and then finally to English. I started working as a RA, which not only helped my GPA, but also helped me stay in school. I thought about giving up and quitting school more times than I care to admit. Each time, I remembered all the times we had talked about college and how I promised you I would finish school. So I did. I graduated this past April. I wish you had been there. I wish so much. Nothing is the same without you here.
There’s still so much I don’t know how to make sense of. Why did you have to get sick? Was it because of something we did or didn’t do? I look back on those months when you were sick and I feel like I failed you. I was gone so much of the time; I should have been at home with you. I should have taken better care of you. I should have been there. I wanted to be strong for you, and I couldn’t do that without taking breaks. You had enough on your plate with chemo and doctors’ visits and everything else; you didn’t need to have to deal with me falling apart too. That’s what I did when I left; I fell apart. I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t want you to feel bad because I knew there was nothing you could do to change it and I knew that if you could, you would be better in a heartbeat. I knew you never wanted this.
I’ve thought a lot about everything recently, and I don’t think I want to know why all of this happened to us. I don’t think I could take it. I know that someday, when I see you again in Heaven, I’ll be able to understand why you had to leave, but until then, I don’t want to know. It would just hurt too much. I’d do anything to have more time with you – one more hug, one more coffee date, one more late night watching TV and eating popcorn, one more time to hear your voice. I think that’s one of the worst side-effects of this, so to speak – I don’t remember your voice anymore. I don’t remember what your hugs felt like, what you smelled like, the way you smiled, the way you laughed – I can’t remember any of it. I remember what I see in pictures, but that’s not the same. It’s not the same at all.
I’m sorry for all the times I was a spoiled brat. I’m sorry for all the times I made you mad, made you worry, made you sad. I’m sorry for planning to go back to school instead of coming to Georgia with you. I’m glad that didn’t work out in the end. It gave me more time with you. I’m sorry for being mad at you, because sometimes I am. Sometimes I’m mad at you for leaving me. Sometimes I hate you for not being here anymore, for missing all of the important events in my life, for not being here when I need you. I hate that you won’t be here to walk me down the aisle when I get married. I hate that you’ll never have a chance to meet the love of my life. I hate all of that, but I love you. I love you so much and I always will. It’s like the book said, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living my mommy you’ll be" (Robert Munsch).
I love you Mamma! Happy 5th Angel Day!
Love always,
Your Olivia
