Dear mom,

I feel tears running down my face, wetting my pillow and I know that once again, I’ll be crying myself to sleep tonight. I’m sorry if I’m making you worry about me wherever you are. On most days, I feel okay. The stress is getting a little bit to me with managing the household, making sure all our bills are paid, that the sibs and Rox are eating, and the rest of the things that you used to singlehandedly do. But tonight, I will shamelessly shed tears and mourn your loss in my solitude one more time.

I still cannot tell what’s the trigger for all of this. It’s quite sneaky if I dare say so. One moment, I’d be having completely unrelated thoughts and the next, my eyes start to pool as I realize that you’re not here to make me feel better. You always managed to do that before..before everything else happened. We’ve had a good 20+ years together, but somehow it does not feel enough. Heck, it does not seem fair at all. Sorry, I’m rambling.

I actually tried looking at photos of you when you were still healthy, wishing that it may bring me some comfort that in heaven or in a parallel universe, you’re happy and well. While the thought is a great one, old photos cannot detect sadness. It is unable to knock on my bedroom door when I pass on dinner and head to bed at 7 PM, so it can lie down in my bed beside me with no questions asked. It does not have the ability to tuck me into bed, or cook my favorite meals to cheer me up. Photos are inanimate ‘things’ that will not stay on the phone with me as I spent the night in the emergency room. It’s just immortalized memories. And I’m afraid that’s all I will ever have left of you.

They say that eventually, time will heal all our suffering. But when I think of you, my heart cannot help but break into more pieces. Nothing can fill the huge gaping hole you left behind. And I wonder how people who have lost a loved one even survive it. Right now I don’t think I ever will, or will I want to, knowing that when I wake up with swollen eyes tomorrow morning it is still going to be the same. But I have to – survive this, I mean. You did leave me a letter, to “live a long and happy life”. It’s just incredibly hard to do so without you in it.

I miss you.