Tag Archive | loss

Getting easier

Dear Momma,

I’ve noticed that in the last couple of months life has gotten a little easier for me.  I still miss you like crazy, and I still get sad when I think about all the things you’re missing.  But for the most part I wake up, get the kids dressed and fed, and I do the whole “mom” thing.

But every once in a while, I catch myself staring at your picture and I can’t help but feel overcome with grief all over again.  It’s like you die again, every time I see that picture.  It feels like a semi truck has parked itself on my chest.  It gets hard to breath and I start to shake.   I feel like screaming, but I’m afraid if I do I won’t be able to stop.  I want to break things and punch the wall.  I want to lock myself in the bathroom and never come out.  And the scariest part?  Not even my kids can snap me out of it.

Momma, I wish I could say I’ve moved on and that I’m happy.  But I’m not.  And it’s worse because Dad thinks it’s ok to parade around the “her.”  And I understand you told him it was ok to be with “her.”  But Momma, you’ve only been gone 9 months tomorrow.  Nine months.  That’s it.  And I know they’ve been seeing each other for the better part of a decade, but you were the one he spent 30+ years with.  You’re the one he had children with.  You’re the one he vowed to love and honor.  I can’t stand to see them splashed all over Facebook together.  Did you  know they went to Cover Bridge together this year?  I was CRUSHED!  You always LOVED the Cover Bridge Festival!

Which brings me to Thanksgiving.  How the hell am I supposed to get through Thanksgiving without you?  That is your favorite holiday.  I remember going to dad and your house every year.  I’d watch you finish up the cooking.  And you and Dad would sneak pieces of food.  And you’d fight over the wish bone.  And Dad would usually beat you.  Well, except the year you cheated!  Which was awesome!  Haha  I didn’t think about it then, but now I kind of wonder if your wish came true.

If I could have one wish this Thanksgiving, it would be to somehow afford to make a trip to Kansas to spend Thanksgiving with my sisters.  It’s not like I want Dad to be alone that day.  Not at all.  But I have a feeling he’s going to have “her” over that day.  And I DO NOT want to see “her” on your favorite holiday.  And not to be mean, but she does not cook as good as you do.  I don’t want “her” Thanksgiving dinner.

Oh Momma.  That heavy feeling is back and I’ve got tears in my eyes.  The kids are playing on the floor in front of me, and I don’t want them to see me this way.  I must have been lying when I said it was getting easier.  This is not “easy” at all.  It will never get easy.  I’m going to live with this pain the rest of my life.  Seven stages of death, my ass.  I’m past the anger, but I don’t think there’s any way past the sadness part.

Baby L is calling for me.  He’s probably hungry.  Again.  Jesus, I wish you could see that boy!

I love you Momma!  I’ll always love you.  Forever and ever.




Today is a “good” day

Dear Momma,

Today is a “good” day.  I’m not as tired as I have been, although I did have a little cat nap at 9am this morning.

My car is broke again.  Stupid belt.  My car guy is looking at it now, hopefully he’ll fix it soon.  I miss my car!  You know how hard it is to not have a car!  Because my car is broke, I haven’t been able to take Kadence to school.  Today is the second day she’s stayed home.  She’s ok with it for now, but I worry about how she’s going to act if she doesn’t get to go tomorrow.  You know how much she loves school!

Jake brought home an awesome report card the week you died.  I know you would have been so proud of him!  Daniel and I gave him $2 for bringing up all of his grades and Dad bought him a new Spiderman action figure.  We were all so proud of him for doing so well!  But then the very next week he lied to us about not having any homework.  So he’s been grounded since then.  Hopefully he’s learned his lesson and can continue to do well in school.  (And don’t be mad that we grounded him!  Jeez!  He lied to us and it’s not the end of the world, he’ll be un-grounded soon!)

Baby L is getting bigger.  I wish you could have felt him kick!  He’s been busy flipping around in there.  I’m really surprised that he’s not under my ribs yet, but I’m sure he will be soon.  Kadence and Jake (especially Jake!) loved to park their little butts under my ribs!  LOL  Do you remember that?  I’ve got 11 more weeks until I get to see our baby boy!  I know you’ll be there, you wouldn’t miss it for the world!  And there’s no way I can kick you out of the room this time!  LOL

Michelle made homemade chicken and noodles and peach pie for us!  She made some for Dad too.  Not quite as good as yours, but it’s still good.  Reminds me of you.  Makes me miss you so much!  I don’t think anyone can ever cook as good as you!  I really want some of your chicken dumplings!  Those are often imitated, but NEVER duplicated!  You really did make the best dumplings!

I miss you every day, Momma!  And I love you a ton!

Love you forever,


I hope your at peace now

Dear Momma,

I’ll never forget the call I got from Brandi telling me to get over there.  I was so scared, but I knew I had to be calm.  The kids were in bed, and Daniel didn’t really want me to go alone.  But there was no way for him to go with me.  I told him I’d be alright.  You know I can’t drive at night (something I got from you).  So I drove as carefully as I could.  I got about halfway to Michelle’s house when Brandi called me again.  She said you were gone.  I don’t really remember driving the rest of the way, but I do remember feeling numb.  I remember walking into the house and seeing Brandi and Michelle sitting at the table crying.  I remember walking in farther and seeing Misty crying.  And a little bit farther I saw Dad sitting next to your bed, his glasses resting on your leg, holding your hand, his head on the bed beside you.  And I remember seeing you.  Well, not YOU you, but the woman who took over your body after your kidneys shut down.

I remember I didn’t look at you for very long.  I didn’t want to think about that image every time I though of you.  So I walked into the other room to be by myself.  I sat on the couch and cried.  By myself.  Because I’m not the type of person that likes to cry in front of others.  Did you know, Momma, that to this day (almost two weeks later) that I’ve still not let Daniel see me cry?  I just can’t do it.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t cry for you.

I cry because I miss you.  I cry because I think you’re mad at me.  I cry because you didn’t ask to see me during those last few days, but you asked to see Tessa.  I cry because just 5 years ago you were coming to my house weekly with new clothes for the baby.  I cry because I don’t think you really knew what you were doing when you stopped dialysis.  I cry because after days of being too weak to make a peep, you screamed not once, but twice before you took your final breath.  I cry because I wonder what those screams mean.

I love you, Momma.  And I really do hope you’re at peace now.

With love always,