Two Years.

Two years ago, I lost my mother.

Two years ago, I lost my sage.

Two years ago, I lost a pain in my ass.

Two years ago, my kids lost the only grandparent they knew on my side.

One they knew well.

Two years ago, covid robbed me of normal.

No service.

No funeral.

No visits.

No compassion.

It was as if her death wasn't real, because it was never fully acknowledged.

It never happened.

It was fake.

Her life, never properly celebrated.

To me?

Almost forgotten.

But not by those who truly cared.

Which was fewer than I like to acknowledge.

Mom.

You are with me always.

Even when those I thought you would be there forever, you aren't.

The endless phone calls I want to make only to hang up.

The people who couldn't, or didn't want to understand my situation, walking away.

Feeling my needs and wants, overbearing.

Friends, family, acquaintances.

I have found myself navigating a new, awful, normal, the best I can.

Yet you taught me about resolution, determination, and purpose.

I just never imagined how those lessons would play out, and how I am using them now.

I try every day, to make you and Dad proud, and can only hope I am.

I never knew navigating life alone would be so hard, but I can say you did the most excellent job of preparing me, without me knowing.

Without you knowing.

So, on this second anniversary, I can only say I miss you.

I love you.

And I honestly, I have no idea how I am still standing with everything that has happened over the course of these two years.

The various kinds of loss endured, honestly?

Unimaginable.

But I still stand.

A testament to you.

Your strength, your teachings, and quite frankly some good old DNA.

So, on this second anniversary of the worst kind, I honor you.

But more, I miss you.

I miss the sass and sage advice.

I miss your lectures, and moreover, cannot believe how right you were.

How right you still are.

I hope I am making you proud.

Just know,

I am trying.

With every bone in my being.

And I love you with all my heart, no matter what I may have uttered, while you were alive.

Xoxo,

C.