Every day there is a new challenge thrown my way, and I just wish I could run to her for help. That just makes it harder though, when the person who made you seem so strong, is no longer around to help you stand tall. People keep telling me, it gets easier – but I can tell you that I highly doubt that. Maybe it will become easier to control my emotions, maybe easier to keep strong throughout the day. But easier in general, no. It will never become easy, because all those life changing moments, where she should be just a few steps from me – she won’t be. Every great moment, is followed by a punch in the gut, and the tears that follow, where I cry for my Mum.

They say ignorance is bliss, - but it’s only bliss until you cross that threshold into hell, reality hits you like a punch in the gut – and you realize that your whole world has crumbled at your feet.

Breath it in. Hold it in. Breath it out.

Do you remember what you used to stand for? The morals you once thought you would grow with. Do you remember your perception of the world as a child? Can you now see everything you missed? How naïve you once were?

“It was always you I wanted” 

Gone are the days we wished we were ten years older. We dreamed of a life that could take us anywhere – we dreamed we were old enough to wear make-up, drive a car, smoke, date boys and party. From the eyes of an eight year old child, adult life seems just a dream away.

Reality hits.

You dream you never grew up, you look back on the worry free life you were so eager to pas by. You wish life consisted of naps, scraped knees and running around all over again. You wish you never got your licence, you wish you didn’t have to pay bills. You wake up every morning, regretting the job you choose to work.

“I wish I could go back to how it used to be”

Dear Mum,

I miss you is such an understatement, yet it’s all I can seem to come up with. People tell me that each day gets better, but somehow that’s really hard for me to believe.

The past three weeks have been a complete blur, everything seems too surreal, and at the end of each day I still wait for you to walk through the door. I wait to hear your laugh, and I come home at the end of the day, wishing you were here because I have so much to tell you.

Dad’s doing well, but god he miss’s you. He get’s up every morning, and just carries on like every other normal day. But he visit’s your grave every day; he wants it to be perfect for you. It’s hard for him though, going to sleep in your bed every night. I know he struggles. Then there’s John. We don’t know what to do with him. I am so scared of losing him too mum; he just goes out and gets drunk, that’s all he ever does. I want him to be okay though.

Jono said to me the other day, “Every time I come over, I look into their room – just in the hopes that she might be there. I miss her too.” He loved you mum. It’s our first anniversary today, I’m glad he got to meet you though, he got to see how amazing you where.

It’s hard not to cry mum. I know you would want me to be strong but, but it’s just not fair. I miss you so much already, and it’s only been three weeks – I still have the rest of my life without you.

I love you mum, forever.

November 28th 2011

It’s been one week, one day. Nothing about this feels real.

I still just think she’s just at the hospital, and we should be visiting her later. Our family had a private viewing the day before the funeral, and even then looking at her, she looked so peaceful… She looked asleep. I waited and I waited for her to open her eyes.

No-one thought to give me a moment alone with her, the way I saw it - this was the last time I was ever going to see my mother. Everyone asked me to leave. So as we filed out the door, and no-one was watching I turned back. I ran actually. I got to the side of my mother, and I looked at her. “I love you Mum… I love you.” I kissed her on the forehead, and then I left.

The following day was the funeral. Mum had always taught me, that when you attend the funeral of a religious person, you wear colour. Because for them it was a celebration of passing into the next life. I was the only person wearing a colour (some had drizzles of colour, others had small bits, but I was the only person who stood out a mile away). I was happy with my choice of outfit, in fact I think it was perfect. 

I sang that day, I hope you dance - by Lee Anne Womack, It was, what I feel, the bravest thing I will ever do. I knew if I didn’t sing, I would look back and regret it. So I sang, as had as it was.

Everything is different now. Thats really hard to grasp though. I sat on the couch with my friends the other day, and as I was going through my phone I saw a message from my mum. It hit me, I will never receive a message from my mum. No cute little “I love you’s” nothing. What I have there is all I have.

from talking to people who have been through the same kind of thing, they tell me it won’t hit me all at once. I won’t cry just one time. There are going to be moment through out my life that are going to make me cry because Mum won’t be there. Thats hard. She was my best friend.

In all honestly, I haven’t cried as much as I thought I would. I just have my moments. 

I miss her.

hopesprings asked: Tia, I am so very sorry for your loss. You are a strong and beautiful young lady and I am sure that your mom was very proud of you. In future days, as life's changes are upon you and you whisper to the wind, "Mom I wish you could be here to see this" (because you will) listen carefully, and I you will hear the answer "I am" Many times this answer will bring tears of doubt, but one miraculous day you will smile and know it is true. Wishing you peace, love and light.

Thank you. This made me cry, although short, it was touching. I know there are going to be times, where I wish I had mum here - but I know she will always be in my heart.

sacrificehandsforthesakeofheart asked: You're the strongest person I know Tia, I'm always free to talk like everyone else. <333

Thanks Jimmy :)

lithely:

Foreword: This was written for a darling friend who, at nineteen years of age, lost a parent over the weekend. A friend who I don’t have the pleasure of spending time with as often as I’d like to, but who’s managed to touch me with her strength and her writing. A friend who’s caressed my core, stirred me. A friend who I’ve laughed with and cried for. A friend who’s taught me to appreciate the treasures in my life. A friend who’s brave and beautiful in speech, soul, mind and flesh.

With an aura flushed rich shades of passion and purity, you exist as radiant, rose-like. And like a rose, you’ll kiss people with your subtle splendour and bring colour to the cheeks of the young, the unravelled, the broken hearted. Like a rose, you’ll deliver crimson and carmine and coral to a world of somberness and smoky skies. Like a rose, your beauty will remain timeless, regardless of your cuspate thorns. Like a rose, you’ll emerge following the frost, brilliant and bright and blooming. Fair flower, you’ll flourish again.

You are amazing Bonnie, you have such a way with words. This was quite possibly the best thing for me to wake up to. Thank you.