of my mother’s death is coming up April 30th.
It will be six years since she left us.
Six incredibly long, tortuous years.
In which I have suffered more pain, darkness, sadness and numbness
Than I pray will ever happen to me again.
I don’t know how I will celebrate her life.
I don’t know how I will remember her death.
So excuse me if I seem a little strange this upcoming week.
If one moment I’m smiling
And the next, crying.
Or even lost
In the burden of my private sorrow
The heaviness of death
And the inescapable reality that is my loneliness
Which has seamlessly woven itself into
My soul’s fabric leaving me no longer naive to the wiles of life
Scarred but healing