9:32am
A million guilts, a million should haves. I was so close to turning right last night, but I couldn't go there. I couldn't stare at her lifeless body, knowing I should have spent more time when she was fully here. But things change in an instant, things never stay. This I know too well.
She died this morning... And I am overcome with heartache, and relief. It's hard watching someone slip away from you for seven months straight. And I couldn't watch, I didn't. I know I'll carry this with me for awhile.
She used to call me "punkin". We used to play Scrabble and some card game with the word "neighbor" in the title, I can't remember... it was so long ago. We used to write letters back and forth, and I spent New Year's Eves with her when my dad was in the band. She always had bags of those pink peppermints, like grandmas always do. And when I feared the Easter bunny wouldn't find me because I stayed at her house that night, I woke up to a chocolate egg lined hallway and Strawberry Shortcake dolls hidden behind curtains. These are the things I have to freeze... not the years in between then and now when I couldn't relate anymore.
And I sit at work, even though they told me I could go home. I feel a little heartless staying... but going home will force me to dwell, to read old letters, to cry. I cried here, but it's safer here right now. I'm waiting for a phone call anyway... to hear the arrangements. I know this all too well. I won't break until I'm alone, or until I see my dad. And I fear that right now.
(I miss you and I love you, and I'm sorry that I didn't go see you more since you got sick. I know you are in a better place, alive again with angel wings.)
She died this morning... And I am overcome with heartache, and relief. It's hard watching someone slip away from you for seven months straight. And I couldn't watch, I didn't. I know I'll carry this with me for awhile.
She used to call me "punkin". We used to play Scrabble and some card game with the word "neighbor" in the title, I can't remember... it was so long ago. We used to write letters back and forth, and I spent New Year's Eves with her when my dad was in the band. She always had bags of those pink peppermints, like grandmas always do. And when I feared the Easter bunny wouldn't find me because I stayed at her house that night, I woke up to a chocolate egg lined hallway and Strawberry Shortcake dolls hidden behind curtains. These are the things I have to freeze... not the years in between then and now when I couldn't relate anymore.
And I sit at work, even though they told me I could go home. I feel a little heartless staying... but going home will force me to dwell, to read old letters, to cry. I cried here, but it's safer here right now. I'm waiting for a phone call anyway... to hear the arrangements. I know this all too well. I won't break until I'm alone, or until I see my dad. And I fear that right now.
(I miss you and I love you, and I'm sorry that I didn't go see you more since you got sick. I know you are in a better place, alive again with angel wings.)