Dear My Sweet Friend,
Most people who read this know that I lost my Mother twelve years ago. She was 54 years old and died as suddenly as you could imagine. It was a pain that I had never felt in my 25 years. The core of my life, of my family, was destroyed and we still to this day have not regained what my Mother gave us. She was my best friend and the only one capable of lighting me up after someone or something darkened my day.
In the days that followed I don’t remember much. I had my roommate to pick me up when I didn’t want to walk but outside of her, I was utterly alone. A hole in me so big I had no idea how to fix. My Father and my Brother were my priority. My Father who is the strong and silent type crumbled before me. I watched him fall to his knees within his grief and I remember whispering to myself, “There is no God.”
There was months of therapy to follow and I was mostly robotic and never really cried. It took me so long to just admit that I was angry. I was angry at God, at the world for continuing to spin when all I wanted it to do was stop, at the sun for shining, at people for laughing. This was a giant step, because like you, I was/am a woman of Faith and I had to come to terms with this happening to my Family.
You and I are so alike, My Sweet Friend. We see kindness as the only way, we find laughter in everything we can and we are strong in loving our Families (blood or not). So I’m writing this to tell you that it’s okay to hurt still. Or to be angry. Or to even admit these out loud. People will understand as you lost a man who meant the moon and the stars to you.
Grief has an obscene way of showing itself at the oddest of times. And please know that there is no expiration date on sadness. It has been twelve years for me and I’m still working on it.
When you miss him the most is when you will feel him near. He’s with you always. He’s the sunshine on your face. The raindrop that hits you directly on the tip of your nose (those are my personal favorite). The flowers you smell while walking down the street. The breeze that gently blows the hair out of your eyes. He will never leave you, Sweet Girl. Until you meet again.
All of my Love,