As a child I was afraid of ghosts. Just the idea of being haunted scared me. And yet-
You have become my worst nightmare, mom, and I can't seem to wake up.
I actually try my best to not remember you at all. It's easier to pretend that you never existed. Which is actually easier than you'd think, considering that people stopped asking how I'm dealing with it. Maybe I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I think it's because you left me at the point in my life where I needed you the most. Time isn't healing anything, that is a myth. I can normally fight these thoughts of you, but some days I just don't have the strength. That is when I turn to God to take the pain away; I even beg to never think of you again. But none of this makes sense.
Why do I feel like I lost something I never had?
I see you everywhere. I can't hide from you. At work I see moms loving on their daughters. At school, I hear kids talk about how great their mom is. Even the love from my new adopted mom stings, because it should be you. Why can't you let me enjoy things? I hear your voice in the songs you used to play. Whenever they come on, I rush to turn them off. I picture you whenever I meet someone who shares the same name as you, I can't be friends with them. And the worst part is, I can't even look at myself in a mirror without wanting to break it. Because I see you; I am a spitting image of you.
I wont lie, I don't know if I miss you. But I do love you. I love you because you're my mother, and it's programmed into my heart. All I feel is this sense of loss, like I lost something I should have had. You weren't there for my prom. You didn't zip up the back of my dress, and take pictures of me and my date. Someone else did. You weren't at my high school graduation. You didn't tell me how proud of me you were, or stand up and cheer when they called my name. Someone else did. You weren't there when I opened those college acceptance letters. You didn't sit down and help me decide where I would attend or help set up my dorm room. Someone else did. It isn't just the things you didn't do though, I can forget those. It's the things you wont be there for in the future- they won't stop running through my head. You won't be there when I graduate from college and get my dream job. You wont tell me how you knew I would make it. Someone else will. You wont be there on my wedding day. You won't help me get ready or tell me to stay calm. Someone else will. You won't be there when I give birth to my first child. You won't hold my hand and cry with me when they place the baby in my arms for the first time. Someone else will. You won't be there to call when life just gets too hard. You won't answer the phone and remind me to pray about it, and say everything will be okay. Someone else will.
You won't be at my funeral, but I was at yours.
You tried calling a month before your last day, a deadline of which I wasn't aware. You were trying to fix our relationship, but I wasn't ready to forgive you. I needed more time; but little did I know, there wasn't much left. I remember the last conversation we had. Your voice is imprinted into my mind. It's ironic actually- I wanted nothing more from you than a simple apology. But I was the one saying sorry.
You chose the thing that you knew would eventually kill you, now you're killing me. But I'm strong enough to find a way out. God could have saved you too, I wish you knew that. It's almost as if you got stronger after you died.
Because now you won't leave me alone.
You hold so much power over me.
I hate the way I remember you.
