It’s been six years since you were so abruptly taken from this earth. Six years since I learned the magnitude of my love for you. Six years that I’ve spent learning, processing, and understanding that grief cannot be applied to the saying “time heals all wounds.” This is a wound nothing can heal. Time has not made it better; instead, I’ve simply learned how to live without your physical presence in my life.
This seemed easier before I became a mother. Motherhood has opened my eyes, heart, and mind to more than I ever could have anticipated. I can’t tell you how many times I go to call you and then realize I can’t, leaving me to experience that grief over and over again. I wish you could be here to see me be a mother and to know your grandson. It pains me so much knowing he’ll never know you personally.
I see you in him. He has the best sense of humor, even at this young age. I knew he would from the womb because of the pranks he seemed to play even then. He loves books, being read to, and music. He has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and a laugh that helps me live in the moment.
I always told you I wouldn’t have kids, but so much has changed since your passing. I want to believe that you’re smiling down on me, watching us, happy for the change of heart I’ve experienced. I pray over him daily, not only thanking God for allowing me to be his mom, but that generations from his bloodline will never have to endure the hardships those before him did—the mental health issues, the abuse, the addictions. Instead, they will experience generational blessings and healing, favor, and anointing thanks to the healing work set forth by you.
Reflecting on our relationship, I wish I could say sorry for putting distance between us. I was so hurt from the past that it kept me in a perpetual state of anger. People who’ve walked this road before me always told me if we didn’t mend our relationship, I would regret it once you passed. Naively, I thought I knew better, only to be met with the worst regret, grief, and pain when that inevitable day came. Ultimately, I realized that the connection we share can never truly be severed—not by trauma, not by pain, not by death. Whether or not I wanted it, I am always going to be your child. I am always going to feel the magnitude of your passing in my soul simply because of this connection.
I remember the times we spent together, like our trip to Florida just a few weeks before you died. We stayed up all night talking, sharing stories and laughs. I cherish the memories of singing along to music with you when I was a kid. You taught me that life is better with laughter, always playing jokes and loving to laugh. Yet, I’ve also learned from you that I need to be incredibly mindful of my behaviors, as I have an addictive personality that can lead me down a dark path.
As the years pass, my love for you grows, and I remember you more fondly. These feelings now become intertwined with the pain from the past, creating a dichotomy of emotions. I wish that I had been a better daughter. I wish I loved you more when I had the chance. I wish I could just hug you again and hear you say my name in that same tone you always used.
Before becoming a mother myself, it was hard for me to understand that you were a woman outside of being my mother. Now, I see that your struggles with addiction were personal battles, not reflections of my worth as a child. This understanding helps me heal, and I handle my emotions by expressing them and allowing myself to feel.
My husband, who I believe you would have loved, is my biggest support system. He helps me navigate my grief, and my friends are always there to lend a listening ear. I practice self-care by taking care of my body and mind through exercise and spending time with God. Regular physical activity helps me release pent-up emotions and stay physically healthy, which is crucial for my overall well-being. Prayer ground me and provide a sense of peace amidst the chaos of life. Additionally, I make time for activities that bring me joy, like reading, journaling, and spending quality time with my family. These moments of self-care not only help me cope with my grief but also remind me of the beauty and blessings in my life. Taking care of myself allows me to be the best mother I can be for my son, honoring the lessons you taught me about resilience and love.
Even though there is so much hurt between us, I still want to thank you for being the mother that you could be. For loving me even when it was hard, for persevering against all the odds set against you. I’m still so very proud of you, and I will always and forever carry you within my heart.
I love you, Mom ❤️