Rotting, rotten, rot. The years have gone by in 14 times I have marked the day of you death. I am motherless, instantly an orphan because the one person who loved me, really loved me because she made me out of thin air while living on apple slices, french bread and butter. Years of listening to me and yelling at me. Minutes waiting for my illness to be over. Hours of dinners I cooked because I wanted to see you at the table and talk to you.
While my years of having out-weigh my years of not having by a lot it still feels like too long since I have smelled you, hugged you and kissed you. You aren’t on the phone, you don’t live in your house and you don’t tell me you love me best of every one.
Ashes and dust and a plaque is all there is physically left of you. It isn’t enough and while I feel my burden of loss lessen the love I have that longs for your oneness of love just feels so small. Taking up space inside my heart getting squeezed out by automatic love I have for my own children.
Oh mommy, I just miss you. I miss the everything you did and gave.