Friday, June 9, 2017

A Year and One Day

May 29th, 2017

It has been one year and one day since you left me.

Yesterday was not hard surprisingly at the year mark, except for last night. I didn't want to go to sleep, because I knew it would be more than a year than you passed and with each passing year it takes me farther away from you. 

My memories become less clear, and me having you with me gets farther and farther away. I know you live still and visit me often and for that I am grateful. But it doesn't fix the longing, the heartache, the loss. You died, and nothing on this earth or heaven could make that okay until I am with you again.  

I didn't want to go to sleep last night because it was no longer months, weeks, or just a year since you passed. Today meant one year and one day, and I am no longer in survival mode, which I am grateful for but I can see the future now. A future without you, which is a long long time. You were with me for 28 years. I am now 29, not quite thirty and it has been one whole year since you passed. I am too young to have lost you, and the thought of living twice or three times as long as I have already have without you is unbearable. I am not suicidal, or wanting to die, but I do not want to live one more day without you. One day is too long and I could very well live half a century more without you. That is so very very long, and that is what is getting to me the most right now. Not that you died, but how long I will live with you gone. 

I hope this Alzheimer's is not genetic. While I understand why Dad did not give your brain to science, I wish he had. I feel it would have been what you wanted. To do anything in your power to help prevent and cure Alzheimer's, especially on behalf of your children and grandchildren. For me it would feel like you did not die in vain in a way. I do not blame dad, nor am I angry about it. Just something I wish had happened. 

I miss you so fucking much. I know you did not like swearing, but I do it because it truly expresses myself in a way that other words cannot. Your sister told me that for your birthday this last October I should stop swearing for you in joking, but I knew she meant it. She mentioned it again later on a post I made on Facebook, and I told her that I knew you would not mind. You were always so accepting like that. Even if you did, I would just not swear around you, because you were such a gentle soul and I would never ever do anything to tarnish or disturb it. You brought the best out of people, always. You saved us all in so many ways. The problem with having such an amazing mother as yourself is when they are gone, the pain is so much more. The better the person, the more it hurts. 

I am going to go for a walk now. Love you so much. Miss you so much. 


Kelli Belly