Blue bells and bleeding hearts
Clarissa Munger Badger/Biodiversity Heritage Library/CC
Tonight at 9:02, it will be a year since mom passed. I miss her every day. In some ways so much has changed. In other ways, nothing has changed. I still feel guilty for reasons known only to mom and me — and Dan, Dad, Granddad, Grandmama, mom’s dad (I have no idea what I would have called him.) Let’s just say, I don’t expect to see any of them when my time comes.
Sometimes it seems like a minute; sometimes it seems like 100 years. I miss you as much as ever. I look back over the past ten years and wonder: how different would life be if you were still in it?
Mom would still have dementia, but probably not quite as far along as she is. The stress of your death accelerated the process. I probably would not be living with her yet, so more of my sanity would be intact. I would have more freedom to travel, even overnight.