19 years. Roughly 6,950 days. 38 birthdays, 4 graduations, and countless moments that a mother should get to witness her daughters go through. Instead, it’s the same constant thought in the back of my mind: “I wish mom could be here for this.”
It’s a hard life to adjust to. One minute you have two loving parents, a happy house full of music and joy, a life that is so rare to come by these days. The next minute, your little world comes crashing down with one sentence: “Mom’s gone baby; she went to Heaven to be an angel.” Suddenly you’re watching everyone try to hold it together, to shield you from everything that’s happening. Suddenly your happy house full of music and joy is solemn and full of sympathy cards and “I’m sorry” phone calls. I’d like to say that after 19 years it’s got easier to deal with, but I’d be lying.
After losing you, I heard the same “everything happens for a reason” speech so many times I probably said it in my sleep. It didn’t help. At the age of 5, I woke up night after night, like clockwork, yelling for you. As a teenager, I wanted nothing more than for you to be there while I tried to figure out the mystery of boobs, boys, and breakdowns. Come to think of it, I’ve wanted that as an adult too. It wasn’t fair. It still isn’t fair. It will never be fair.
With that being said, thank you, Mom.
Thank you for showing me what a loving relationship looked like, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health. Thank you for leaving me with a father who stepped up to take on both roles. Someone who sacrificed everything to make sure his daughters had the best life he could give them. Someone who provided the most loving, supportive household that only became stronger through tragedy. Someone who has shown me to never settle for less than a man who can love me the way he loved, and still loves, you.
Thank you for being a constant reminder that I’m a survivor. Even on my worst day, I can tell myself that I’ve been through so much worse, and I’ll get through it. The day you died was the day I became a fighter. I will always fight for a better tomorrow and a better life for myself. Watching you go through treatment, watching it literally take the life out of you, and watching how you still fought to spend every free minute with your family is how I know that I’ll be okay. A dark night will always be followed by a brighter day and it’s taken me all 19 years to realize that. I’ve survived 100% of my bad days and I’ll keep surviving them because you taught me how to do so.
Finally, thank you for making me a person who wants to see the good in everyone, no matter how much wrong they’ve done. Some may see this as a flaw, or a weakness, but I see it as my biggest strength; that no matter how many times I’ve had my heart broken, I still have the ability to find happiness, just like you. I’d like to think a little piece of you lives on in me, and the piece gets bigger as I get older. It might be true that everything happens for a reason, but in this case, I don’t think I’ll ever fully grasp the reason. No matter how many shooting stars, 11:11’s, birthday candles, or eyelashes I’ve wished on, it never came true. But because of you, I’m a fighter, a warrior, a survivor. And if I can’t have you here, at least I can find strength in this tiny thread of silver lining.
All my love, Mama.
