Bittersweet

Dear Mom, 

Tomorrow Henry turns four. FOUR. I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. 

I am really struggling today. Tomorrow is the first "event" I've had to go through without you. I've planned just a small party- but it's still plenty of organizing and baking that I need to do, and to be honest, I'm having a hard time putting my whole heart in to it. 

I am hurting terribly thinking of how much Henry adores you and how his memories of you are soon going to start to fade. He talks about you, and he knows you are dead, but I don't know that he really understands it yet.  He asked me yesterday when we were in the spare bedroom if we were getting it ready for Granny to come and visit.  We actually have many moments like this, and they are sad, but not devastating.  I like that you are still close in his mind.

Well-intentioned people will tell me that "it's okay, you will keep your mom's memory alive through your stories", and yes, of course we will do that, but these words are not comforting to me. 

I want to scream, "IT'S NOT THE SAME". It's not the same, and it never will be. You will never have a living, breathing relationship with Henry ever again, and that hurts me. I know it hurts you, too. I can feel it and I will carry that with me forever. 

Mom, today, tomorrow and for the rest of my life I hold you close to my heart and I will miss you every second of every day. 

Love, 

Kristine  

Your Funeral

Dear Mom, 

We had your funeral this past Saturday, but you already knew that. Even though the day was filled with soul-wrenching sorrow and tears, and I knew you were gone, I still found myself wanting to turn to you and tell you things about the day, just as if you were right beside me and it was someone else's funeral. 

I wanted to tell you about all the people who came. So many friends, old and new, colleagues and of course, family members came out to say their final goodbye to you. You would have been surprised at the old friends and neighbours who showed up. Hearing your colleagues talk about you was really special to me.  I've always been proud of the work you did. 

I wanted to tell you how Michael delivered a beautiful eulogy. He delivered your story and a message of love and living life to its fullest- everyday, with no regrets. 

I wanted to tell you they should have gone with the rose coloured lipstick, and not the peach, but of course you were beautiful anyway. 

I want to tell you everyday from now until the day *I* die how much I love you and how much I will miss you. But like I said before, you already know that.

Love always,

Kristine