I wonder why I do it. Why I read so many books about people dying and why I watch movies when I know people die. I do it a lot. And today, as I was watching The Fault of Our Stars I came up with the answer. Every time I wrap my self up in someone else’s kid dying I feel less alone in this life. And while I know I am not alone, and in fact surrounded by love, I still live my days dealing with you not in them. This life of mine is extreme. It is very good and very bad all at once, every moment of every day. And even when the good is great, it is always missing you.
And I sometimes get mad at you. There I said it. I get mad because you left me here. And you left me to make sense of this life. But I never really stay mad too long because I can’t. And you’ve taught me more since you left than you can every imagine. You’ve helped me with patience – patience to roll with it, even when those around me make it harder. And you’ve helped me find blessings in the least likely of places, every single day. And you’ve helped me find my next chapter.
I wonder sometimes what you think of your life. When you watch us carry on here on Earth, what do you think? When your story ended, how did you feel? How do we feel when our story ends? This life we lead is really pretty amazing yet so very hard. The choices we make, the people we share it with – it can all be so overwhelming. But it can also be so great. This life of mine brought me you. And I somehow ended up with my most important role as your mom (Ethan’s too). And while I appreciate the journey, I still wish it was different. I wish our story ended together or at least had more time. Every choice I now make in this life is different that it would have been. Everything. And that is what people don’t understand. It never leaves me. Not when we travel, not when go out, not when we stay in, no matter what we do. This life will always be different now. And sometimes I just want it to be what it was.
Miss you more that you know.