Grief and Mourning

Who Am I to be Sickened With Grief?

My Second Letter to My Mother

I am sorry you are not here. I don’t even know what to say except that I am hiccupping like a failed vinyl record, stuck on the same memories, awash with tendrils of regret.

Photo by Jace & Afsoon on Unsplash

Who am I to even be so sickened with grief?

I move on. I wake up, and the sun is shining. A distinct cloud passes in the blue, blue sky.

Photo by Sam Balye on Unsplash

I am trying not to cry, trying not to live once more in memories that no longer belong to myself alone.

You belong to God. You belong in Heaven.

I am here on earth, fulfilling my life’s purpose. I don’t even know what that is or if I will be able to accomplish it.

I am in the process of draining my evil, self-fulfilling thoughts from my mind and into the ocean, where they will mingle in the waves and be lost forever.

Photo by Ilyuza Mingazova on Unsplash

I don’t want to hold onto things that don’t serve me. I can still see your warm, cinnamon brown eyes looking at me. Were you marveling, or just sad?

You gave me everything you possibly could and more.

I am humbled, deeply humbled, at the sacrifices that you made, and I scarcely believe I deserve them.