Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds

Thanks to the Jonathan Larson musical RENT it is commonly known that there are 525,600 minutes in a year. It is less commonly known that there are 4,733,542 minutes in nine years. A week from today it will have been nine years ago my mother died. She was 44 I was 17. Whoever said time heals all wounds is a damned liar.

I swear it gets more difficult as the years pass. There are so many things she’s missing. I wrote a book which was published last January, it’s dedicated to my mother and the grandchildren she would never meet. I began dating and became engaged to an absolutely incredible man I hope she would love. Her and I should be planning together – instead I have to decide how I want to honor her on my eventual wedding day.

In all honesty, I’m not sad my mother is dead. I’m pissed off. I’m aware it’s been nearly a decade but that doesn’t matter to me. I’ve been to therapy I’ve worked the various steps of grief. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know that I will ever not be at least a little angry my mother was taken from me when we were both so young. How can I not be? No one is supposed to die at 44.

My life has of course moved on since my mothers passing . I’ve welcomed a total of 7 nieces and nephews into my life. I’ve seen my brothers become wonderful hardworking men. My dad found love again which led me to gain a stepmom and three bonus siblings all of whom I love. But absolutely none of that progress makes up for the fact that my mom should be here. And the weight of her loss hasn’t lessened since her passing. Perhaps, I’ve just learned to carry it better.