"Soon I will come visit you."
"Soon we will spend some time together."
"No, don't come visit just yet, we'll plan something soon."
"I love you."
"Now, as my heart breaks, I have learned how long soon can become. Not as quick as necessary, not as comforting as once thought.
I have learned that life should not be about soon, but now. That each moment is precious, each second irreplaceable.
That as quickly as your heart beats, it can break."
"What memories do I have? That while others said 'soon,' 'maybe,' or 'no' my mother always said 'yes.'
That she, unlike so many others, would sacrifice herself - without thought - to see someone she cared for happy.
She would do without, so you did not have to."
Death does not make a person become a saint and there is no one that I know who is perfect. However, what I can say is that my mother's flaws were over shadowed by her heart. A beautiful person, full of love and compassion who never learned to let go of all the hurt that life had brought her way. Her hurts turned to disease and when it was time for my brother and I to take care of the person who gave up herself to take care of us... we did a little, but not enough.
People would say that we did everything we could. They would say that you cannot blame yourself, you cannot feel guilty. I say fuck them and their petty cliche, fuck them and their chorus of "she wouldn't have changed," fuck them and their empty words of her being in a 'better place.' Who the fuck are they to say what is better or what is enough? I do feel guilty, I do blame myself and I am angry... I am so fucking angry at myself and all the people around me who could have cared more and didn't.
They did not forget how beautiful she was - they had simply forgotten her.
They forgot about friendships, they forgot to be there for someone in need.
They forgot the importance of love, support and intervention to lift someone lost in depression.
They forgot to care."
It has been over two weeks since she passed away and I still feel numb. I've tried to keep my mind occupied, simply to delay the process of coming to terms with her being gone. I still pick up my phone, with the thought to call her and then realize how I cannot. I hear her voice in my mind and have conversations about all the things I wanted to do for her. I don't want her gone, because I do not know where she is.
I am okay as long as I keep my mind occupied.
I've lost my mother, my friend, the person who has always cared for me and who I could tell anything to. I lost her before I could do all the things I wanted to ... because I was too busy with my own life. Too selfish and lost in my own world to hear her small cries for help.
I wonder if she knows how much I love her, how much regret my brother feels and how much my heart is breaking?
I hope that as you read this you take another look at your relationship with your parents. That you take the time to consider those that are lonely, hurt or fighting demons of their own. If that situation exists in your life, perhaps you may want to think of what difference a little more love may make.
Time doesn't always mend a broken heart.