Bit by bit, little by little, the grief takes over. I wake up in the morning and work my way through the day. I put one foot in front of the other and listen as I hear myself speak. I feel my smiles spread and hear laughter that I claim as my own. I think of you hundreds of times a day and with each pain, I swallow it away; bury it down inside me. There are so many memories that create that pain. I know that one day those same memories will make me smile, but right now, your loss is still so new.
I was just getting able to breathe again after losing your dad. It had been a year, and I had walked through a lot of my memories of him. I had watched the changing of the seasons; winter to spring, spring to summer, summer to fall and fall back to winter once again. Each season brought with it a bundle; memories that floated to the surface like steam from a hot tub. I'd relive the events that had given birth to those memories and would feel the knife of grief twist a little in my heart. Just part of the grieving process I told myself. I knew it would never stop, for after all, I had loved him for fifty years and would probably only have another twenty to make my way through all my recollections of those times. But I could do it, if for no other reason than I had you and your siblings who I needed to live on for, to smile for, to laugh for.
And now my boy, you are gone. I had loved you for forty-five years, one month and 18 days. Forty-five years, one month and 18 days worth of memories. I have started the seasons once again. Winter to spring.
But my darling boy, I would do it all again. I would go through this period of pain to have had you in my life for that time, for I cannot fathom my life without you. To not have had my time with you, is something I cannot even imagine. There was such a tremendously amount of wonderful in my being your mom.
The hurt builds up inside me. Each time I can't hear you say "I love you, Mom", or hear your laugh, or have you tell me your dreams or schemes, causes the pressure of the volcano to build until a day like today comes and it erupts, leaving me shaking and torn.
So I sit down and write you a letter. It's my way. Remember the dreaded letters I use to write to you and your siblings. When I had become upset by something one of you did I would write you a letter and usually leave it on your pillow. I wasn't stupid honey. If I wrote you, you couldn't argue with me. So I write you now honey. I write you to tell you I love you, I miss you, I forgive you, and i'm so glad you are my son.
Take care of your dad for me until I'm with you again.
I love you honey.