Listening to Sam Smith while I think of you and wondering if I will make it through the month without crying again. No...probably not because I'm crying now, Mommy. June 8th. The night of your passing. We had spoken just a few hours before. Wheel of Fortune was on in the background. You passed away a little later...some time after the Mariners game. They said you went peacefully. It hasn't been peaceful for Poppi and me though.
Sometimes when I come in from the cold, I only want to go back outside, hoping to sing loud enough for you to hear me, the one who used to play the piano and the violin and wrote songs for my pretend solo album. Instead, I became a writer. But you believed in that dream, too, because you came to all my plays and gave me hundreds of books to read when I was little and taught me the alphabet when I could barely walk and encouraged me to explore the world even when it meant leaving you.
Because of you I can.
But my heart breaks. Still. And not even past lovers have been able to fill the void...a void in my heart that belonged to you first. Anyway, here they are...the ramblings of a lonely girl who misses her mother. Still. Forever.
I think I'll go to bed now and bury my head under the covers and wait for the beautiful butterflies you always send...all this before the sun rises...