Death is a Bitch

Today makes 5 months since my mom died. It’s like the farther away in time I get since the last time I saw her the harder it gets. Which I guess makes sense since absence makes the heart grow fonder and shit. 

I suppose I expected it to be harder the moment it happened. The way I felt when I realized she was no longer breathing and her hand was getting colder, I always expected that to be the hardest. I mean seriously, how could it get any harder than the actual witnessing of someone dying? 

I may have been numb for a while. The last few days were certainly a mental overload and it must’ve taken me months to truly grasp the not coming back part of death. It’s also the closer we get to the holiday season the more I realize she won’t be around to get on my nerves. It’s funny how a person can miss being annoyed.

I know I’m not suppose to dwell on the what ifs and wishing I could change the past because really I’m only torturing myself since the past can’t be changed but if I could go back I would tell myself to stop hating her so much before it’s too late. Before you know it she’ll be gone. Cherish every stupid fucking phone call. Every stupid argument. Hug her dammit!

She was only 48. How is that even fair?

As she would’ve told me; life isn’t fair.

A good friend of mine told me it’s bullshit – the saying that it gets easier with time. She says it never gets easier, you just learn to carry it better.

I hope so, because right now this luggage is hurting my back.

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