It’s been almost on year since I wrote you a letter apologizing to you, and since it’s almost one year since I’ve wrote that letter, it means that it’s almost been one year since you’ve passed on.
Mom, I have to tell you the truth. I had no idea how hard this would be on me. How terrifying the world would be without your love. I would never regret telling you that it was okay to pass on, that it was okay to leave me here, but to say those words, and then live them are two very different things.
Mom, there is never a day that I don’t remember your face, the look of agony and pain that you were going through. The guilt that tore apart my heart when I realized that you were going through all of that just so that you could make sure I’d be okay.
I’d love to tell you more than anything in the world that I’m doing okay, that the world is filled with butterflies and beauty that I had yet to see before. But the truth of the matter is that there is a void still in my life. A massive heartache that I have yet to figure out what to do with. I want so badly to see your face, to hear your voice and know that I could once again see you again. Mom, you were taken from me too soon.
I met a guy mom, and he’s wonderful to me. He tries so hard to fill that void in my heart that you’ve left behind and he truly understands my feelings for this. And mom, I think he’s the one. But what kills me so much is that you won’t be there for the wedding. You won’t be watching me from the front row and crying your eyes out because you were happy for me. I won’t be able to go shopping for my wedding dress with you and I won’t ever get to see the look on your face to see that you’re little girl has grown up.
It’s been a long year mom, but I’m still moving on. I know that you wanted what was best for me, and that cancer was not a choice of yours, but it shouldn’t have been you. It shouldn’t have been you to go. I still need you, now more than ever and I need a mom. I need someone to hold my hand and let me pretend to be a child sometimes.
It’s been one year. The world is still filled with butterflies and beauty. I’m just having a hard time seeing it right now. Please guide me through it, if not with your physical presence but with your emotional one.
I love you mom, still more than my boyfriend, my friends and anyone that I will ever know. And while it kills me, I know I had to tell you it was okay so that you wouldn’t suffer anymore.
Your Semi-Grown Daughter.