I guess it's time I try to do another update.
I read and read and re-read that last statement I made to you, for you...for anyone... It still tugs on my heart. Every time. Every week.
I can still feel, strong as ever, the emotions that came with writing it. I hurt. I get angry. Even though I swell up with fury and want to scream a blood-curdling scream to try and console myself in some way, I still feel hollow. Deep down inside, there is a growing emptiness, as though I'm fading away from within. No matter what it is I feel, it will soon go, back into the recesses of my fucked up mind, lying in wait, just waiting for the next time I read it again. For the
next time I spend just a little too much time thinking about you.
Not a day goes by where I don't wish I could ask you something, anything. What was it that you put in your squash casserole that made it taste just...perfect? Dad made it the other day. It wasn't yours. You used cheese. It was still good, but it wasn't yours. Even if I made it, exactly word-for-word as you made it, still not the same. Not even close. I miss your hands. Seeing them work away making little kitchen miracles, flower miracles. Just making things work and keeping them working. But in the end you couldn't even help yourself. There were no miracles for you. There was nothing I could do, but stay in denial. I could keep telling you "See? The doctors lied again, you don't have cancer! It'll be okay. Even if you're sick for a little while, you'll be home at least. We'll be fine, then. You'll be home..."
I haven't been to the graves since I put the flowers out. I took some photos...they came out good. Strange to be taking pictures of the graves, maybe, but I guess it was just a token to keep. Something to say "Hey, I did this on my own. I can actually do something on my own. I can do things for you still." I'm hoping they'll still be there when I go back soon. June already...I don't know what flowers make for good summer decorations, but I'll put some out soon. Another
promise for you.
Work has been going good. I've managed to get myself two jobs, now. I'm sure you'd be proud, seeing me work hard, plugging along from one place to another, all responsible-like. When you died I was basically fired from my last job, no longer needed since Christmas was over. What an unceremonious departure that was. So cold, so...business-like. It still makes me angry. The couple of times I've been back, I can't even look Joe in the face, when it should be him who shies
away...not me. I gave everything I could for them, and he picks the other guy to keep on, simple as that.
I'm sorry...no ranting. It's strange to try and talk to you now, when we never had the best communications. I never really opened up and spoke with my true voice, my regular and natural style, for either of you. I still can't with dad, and it's worse now. We hardly talk, even though he's home now more than he ever was. Apparently I'm not responsible enough and can't handle simple tasks around the house well. I don't know.
It's been a year...since me and Kate have been a couple. A year and a few days. I know you never liked her, and it came to the point where you basically hated her, and I still can't see why. I honestly, truly, wholeheartedly swear to you I have no idea why. I have no intentions of rubbing anything in your face, any plans to go "Ha! I've proven you wrong!" or anything. All I wanted was your unconditional love, and unconditional support, and Kate's love and support. I loved all of you...still do. It still doesn't make sense to me that I could not have it all. No matter what I go over in my mind, the pieces just don't fit. That will never leave me. Maybe if I can find all the pieces and put them together, maybe I'll see what I'm missing. Maybe I can find my peace with it all.
You're always on my mind. I don't want to forget, but I hate having to remember every day. Every day, just about, I feel bad and then good, or utterly useless and then like I could do anything in the world. There are very few days when I can truly be one set mood. Saturday...Sunday...one of the two happened to be one of those days. I honestly don't know when I've felt like that. One solid, unchanging mood throughout the entire day. It was wonderful. It was so peaceful. Kate thought I was acting strange, but I couldn't really explain it...
I can pretend that every day is like that for you, now. I know for a fact that you're gone, gone for good and there will be no traces of you anymore, except for memory and a few fleeting photos. Almost no audio. Nothing for your grandchildren to listen to...almost no video for them to see you smiling, moving around. But I still pretend, despite knowing better, that you're in a better place, happier and smiling down on me like the caring, loving, attentive mother you were. It's moments like these that make me wish I were dead, just so I could stop crying again. It's selfish and unfair to think and wish that, but dammit...
So, here I am again, near blind with tears and choking back the sobs and snot and being a miserable wreck. Dad's asleep, still, hopefully so. It's 4am and I'm crying
like a little kid again.
I love you.