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One Week Anniversary

I keep reaching for the phone as if something on it will make me feel better.

Then I remember you won’t be calling, there will be no text messages, no updates about you, and you won’t be able to receive any pictures or videos of Indigo that I want to send.

There is a deep dark vacancy that I am now facing and there is nowhere I can run to escape it. It is here now. I don’t feel empty but I do feel like I’m standing on the edge of an endlessly steep cliff, in the dark. I can’t see anything. I can hear the sounds of the ocean. I know there is something there but the only way to get to it is to stand still, lean into the unknown, and wait for the sun to come back up again tomorrow.

I’m in awe of the depth of this darkness but I still feel naked. Not alone but naked. As if every form of comfort I’ve ever known has been stripped away from me over the last 3 years. And I’m indescribably grateful for this journey of contraction, I’ve expanded so much. It’s been so hard but I’ve pushed through. I’ve shown up and I feel so firmly rooted in the understanding of who I am and what I know that there’s no point of arguing with anyone. That’s freedom.

All of this is true yet at the same time I still miss my mom. I miss her so much. I want to call her. I want her to call me. I want to hang out with my best friend, and laugh with her, I want to give her a hug, and make art with her. And I can’t. And I don’t know what to do, I can’t fix it. That’s the beauty of it, I have to surrender. There’s no other choice but to let go. Sometimes over the last couple years I would fixate on her shortcomings, all the things she did wrong, how she didn’t show up, and the ways that she hurt me. When she was here I realized this helped me in coping with the situation. My Aunt Debbie pointed out that with caregiving, the person often lashes out towards the ones they are closest to. I never saw my mom as a patient because she was so capable and I never saw anything I did as giving care, I just was going to see my mom. But when she shared this perspective it made so much sense. I wish I had realized it sooner instead of taking things personally. Every time she would lash out made it easier to let go but now that she’s gone I don’t care. None of that stuff matters. I just miss my mom.

I miss her so much. And this is only the beginning, this was just the first week.


I would do anything to be next to your dying body, holding your hands, wiping your sweat, gazing into your eyes while you still had the beat of your heart.

Thank you for being here. I love you to the moon and back, or as Indigo started saying “I love you to the sun and back.”



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