Grief rant
In just a few days, it will be 3 years since I lost you. For a couple years before you died, I knew losing you would be the hardest thing and I knew I would miss you like crazy. I just had no idea of the intensity or the amount. I know you would tell me not to bottle it up and shove it down, but I just don’t see another way. If I let it out, it takes over and everything spirals. When I did it before, my life was in shambles and I almost lost everything. And I can’t do that anymore, I have a whole new person I made that I’m responsible for now. The family feels so different without you, so broken apart. You were the glue that kept us together, gave us all our own place and made sure everyone was included. Now it’s just chaos and something I try to avoid. I cannot count the times I’ve desperately wanted to talk to you. Good news I wanted to share with you, you to comfort me after receiving bad news, endless questions, your stories, and just to talk to and say hi. And now there’s this whole new aspect…I’m a mom. My whole pregnancy, I wanted to tell you that I was going to be a mom. And every time I thought about it, it was a fresh new sting in my chest. Every time I thought of how my child would not know you, a new ache and sadness. When my daughter entered the world, I wanted to call you up and tell you “Dad! Dad! I did it! I brought a little girl into this world. I didn’t think I could do it, but you were right. I could and I did.” All of my frustrating moments of motherhood, I have wanted to call you and ask for your advice, your comfort, your help. All of my bad days, I have wanted to feel your arms around me and hear you tell me that it’s ok. I wonder if that feeling will ever go away. That internal ache every time I think of something you’re missing, that you aren’t here to witness and be a part of. If I could go back and do things differently, I would. I was a weird teenager and spent so much time at home with my parents, but I would spend even more. I hugged you every day, but I would hug you even more. I asked you for advice on everything, but I would ask for even more. But…if I could go back and not change anything and just relive it all the same, I would. There’s not much I wouldn’t give just to see you again. That’s all I can say for now, cause I feel it bubbling up and taking over. And I don’t want to wallow or pity myself. I feel so truly blessed to be your daughter, and I’ll feel that way for the rest of my life. I miss you, a little more each day…today quite a bit more than yesterday. I love you forever.