I miss you. I wish there was more I could say or do to let you know that, but I can’t. Instead, I can just sit here, maybe cry a little, tell people it’s going to be ok, and then fall back into the void of your absence.
I’m not trying to blame you for what happened; I know you fought hard until the bitter end — I was right there holding your hand, remember? I guess I just selfishly wish you were still here: your strength, optimism, character, candidness — qualities I still strive to reflect
I was just thinking about when you were still awake at the hospice. You would be laying there — in pain I’m certain — trying to rest. Your eyes would be closed and I thought you were asleep, so I would prepare to get up to leave the room in order to give you some space. Before I stood, I would softly say to you, “I love you so much Mom” — trying my hardest to put on a smile in spite of the sadness growing inside me. Then, as if sunshine had flooded the room, your beautiful face would swiftly turn in my direction. With all of your strength, you would raise your head and softly respond, “I love you more.”
That’s all for now — Sarah is here to help me get ready for the flight tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to stop by your place one last time before I go, but don’t worry, I’ll come visit you soon.
Bye for now. Love you always and forever. ❤️
— Your Little Allie