Dear Mom

Dear Mom.

Today I walked into my house with the snow swirling at my back and five broken bags of groceries and three dogs barking and not enough weight on my body and I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could and I still feel it in my throat now when I swallow. I screamed because I am so mad at you.

I’m mad that I have to put so much effort into forgetting an old life. That I have to try and actively forget you to get through the day and then I can’t remember you and your face and your laugh when I need to. I’m mad that I can’t call you when I’m crying this hard and I can’t breathe and knowing you would know something was wrong before I could even speak. That’d you’d say “Hanny what’s wrong” and wait for me to breathe and tell me how to because I’ve forgotten.

I’m mad at you because I’m afraid of losing people now and I hold onto them rather than letting go when it’s time. I’m mad at you because your spot will never be filled and any attempt to try and lean on those who say I can is an exercise in futility because you just knew and you loved me even when I am and was my ugliest. That if anyone called me that or hurt me you would be the first person to rattle off my best qualities and tell me that I was your hero. That I’ve lost my biggest and best cheerleader and no-one will ever take your place or love me that much.

I’m mad at you because I now think of worst case scenario when anything happens to anyone I love or anyone they love. I’m mad because the depth of my feelings seem incomprehensible to even me, and I wonder how anyone will be able to love me with this weight and baggage I carry because of you. I’m mad that I have to strategize ways to explain to new people that my mom died, that my family imploded, and that I spend holidays and Sundays alone and no I can’t relate to being mad at your parents or siblings who live here. That I carefully explain that I have three dogs because I inherited  my mom’s dog and yes I mean that in the most literal of senses. That I have to say “it’s okay” when it’s not but, what could they possibly say.

I’m mad at you because I can’t relate to other forms of pain and when I do feel them, it feels like all of you is intertwined in mine. Heartbreak is also heartbreak of not having you there to witness it or brush my hair back. That reading messages from my friends’ moms brings tears to my eyes because anytime someone says “I love you sweetheart” I hear it in your voice.

I’m mad at you because you left. That wearing a choker was a really big deal for me because wearing a tight necklace meant I felt claustrophobic and couldn’t breathe. That I still have to duck and cover my eyes when I see a noose in a movie because I picture you swaying from it and it breaks my fucking heart.

I’m mad at you because I had to watch you go and sometimes when I close my eyes, I see your ears turning blue when your breathing stopped before your heart did and the way you looked when there wasn’t anything left. That when I hear the song My Girl I remember singing it to you in your ear when you slipped out of this world. That I told you I’d be fine and that you could go.

I’m mad because I miss you more than I’ll miss anyone and because the love I have for you has nowhere to go. Because you are, and always will be, the absolute love of my life.

 

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