Year Two

I've never been afraid to cry in the comfort of my own presence. Or at least a thought I wasn't. It's been two years (tomorrow) since my mother passed away. After the first year I stopped crying as often. I thought it was because people said it gets easier with time and that my time for tears was lessening. I very well could be wrong. Maybe I stopped crying so much because I thought of it as throwing myself a pity party. I always tell my friend not to do so, not to wallow is her hurt. I very well could've taken my own advice. As this picayune day draws near to its end and the dawn of the day my mom left approaches, I cry.

I sob uncontrollably. I'm letting myself cry. 

The tears I shed this night and tomorrow in day are selfish within my thoughts and I'm okay with that.

I cry because I miss her. I cry because I'm scared without a constant reminder I'll forget all of what my mother was. 

I could never truly forget her. But her touch. Her laugh. Her comforting presence when her "baby girl" is in need, that all seems to slip away from my memory with each passing month. 

So either way, crying selfishly or just because I need more time to let the tears fall like flurries, I accept it. 

Mom, I want nothing more than to talk to you and hold your hand at least once more, I know that'll have to wait so until then I'll do my best to keep your memory eternal. I apologize that the miracle I begged for didn't come true. 

I miss you so much more than I can even fathom for myself. 

I love you.