Today is the day you left me, precisely one year ago. I held your hand as you cried in pain and looked on as the Lord finally brought you peace and took you in the wee hours of that cold December morning. I cannot describe the torment those last few images have brought me over the past 365 days... the agony of watching my mother, the strongest, bravest, most encouraging soul I have ever known, finally succumb to the misery and cancer that ravaged her body. I was not ready for you to go, Ma. I was looking forward to the years of sagacious parenting advice you would have provided, even to the playful "I told you so" when I wind up with teenagers as bratty as I was. I was hoping to make you smile when I finally bring home the Ivy League degree this May, just like I have dreamed about since I was a little girl. I could have used your support while I pulled those all-nighters this autumn and when I had my heart ripped to pieces this past spring. I still need your help attempting to piece together this wacky family of ours, and trying to figure out my nonsensical, silly little life. I miss the sound of your voice on the other end of the phone every single day... I wish you didn't have to go, Mum; then I would not be stuck here, desperately trying to make you proud with the knowledge that I will never have the satisfaction of knowing whether or not I was successful... I wish I could believe everyone when they say that "it gets better with time," but I know that better really just means numb. Your absence will never feel right to me, and I never want it to...
We went to the cemetery today, all of us, to visit your grave. I was hoping to feel something, some sort of warmth or comfort, but really I felt nothing. Then I realized how silly I was for expecting to find you there. You are not trapped in that box six feet under the ground. You are in the snow. You are in the rain. You are in the grass under my toes and the crisp, fresh air that fills my lungs. As much as I crave your warm embrace, your strong, worn hands holding mine, your striking, resonant laughter filling the silent, lonely spaces, I remembered today how much you are woven into the fabric of my very being, how your love permeates the world in which I walk...
I will always miss you, Mumma, and nothing can fill the hole in my heart hollowed out by your absence; but wherever you are now, happy and free, I pray that you will feel how much I love you, and how anxiously I await our reunion.
You are missed. You are loved. Forever and ever.
Your daughter,
Jenna Leigh
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