I was told you see me when I write in my journal so I am hoping you are looking over my shoulder and reading what I am writing now.
Some days I don't handle your being gone, honey. The last two days have been extremely hard. I can't bear your not being here. I can't face the fat that I wasn't with you the day(s) before you died. I hate it so much that the last time I talked to you I didn't talk longer. I didn't hear your voice longer and now you are gone and I have lost my chances.
I know you are okay where you are at. I know you are at peace from your demons you fought here; demons of addiction. I know you are with your dad and our other loved ones that have passed on. I know you are in a place of peace and love, but I must be selfish because I would rather have you here with me.
I'd rather be able to talk to you. I'd rather be able to see you walking down the isle of Safeways. I'd rather you be eating my cooking. I'd rather be telling you that you need to give up your drugs, that you have so much potential and that I believe in you.
I'd rather be doing anything than sitting here writing a letter to you; a letter I don't know if you're reading or not, sitting here missing you so bad my heart feels like it could break in two.
"Get your mind quiet," you told me when your dad died. "Get your mind quiet and you will be able to feel him near. He's with you, Mom. You just won't let your mind be quiet enough to hear him or feel him near you."
I couldn't master it when your dad died and I can't with you now.
Everyone tells me to "believe." I do believe. It's not that I don't believe in Heaven. It's not that I don't believe you and your dad are "in a better place." I don't want to hear that "time will heal."
I want you and I can't have you. I can't have my baby, my sandy-haired boy, my handsome son.
Oh God honey. Read over my shoulder. Know there's this lady curled up on the couch writing a letter to you that loves you more than she loves life itself.
I'll try to quiet my mind. I'll try to feel you; sense you.
I'll try baby.