By Kyla Thompson
All the things I wish you were here for.
All the things I wish you could tell me.
All the things I struggle with because you aren’t here.
October 21st, 2014. The day a part of myself went missing and will never be filled again. A part of me that was formed over thirteen years. Like every mother-daughter relationship, it is special and unique. She is the person that holds you for the first time. She is the person that will tell you the impact you will make on this life. She is the person that will teach you how to make friends. She is the first person to help you become a woman.
In the span of four words, it can all come to an end. And you have to find your answers to all the questions somewhere else. That is the most challenging part - feeling like you have to find the answers all by yourself. A challenge that gets harder as the problems become more and more complex. As the problems come up, I find myself crying because all I want in that moment is my mom by my side helping me.
It has been 7 years and 4 days since my mom was on this side of heaven. As I type those words, they don’t feel real. And I genuinely don’t know when it won’t be a show to me. I know that she is gone - I saw her body laying in a casket at her funeral. But I feel as if she will one day just knock on my door, and the moment I open it, she will give me a big hug. As I dial her number into my phone, knowing that she won’t pick up, but just longing that maybe she will. Longing for something. A connection. I miss her a lot.
Every year the day of her passing brings about a different set of emotions. This year, as I turned twenty, it was filled with a new kind of love. As I am surrounded by my best friends, the people that love me, and whom I love, I feel more alone than I ever have before. Alone, because none of them will ever meet or know my mom, the person who had a large part in shaping who I am. The friend with whom I cry randomly is a person that will never know for whom I cry. At the same time, I love the things I see that my friends have with their moms. I want my mom to tell me my shorts are too short. I want her to tell me the stories of the stupid things she did college. I want her to tell me about her first boyfriend.
I know that none of these emotions will ever go away, and the love I have for my mom will forever take different forms. My heart feels like it is being shattered into a million pieces every time that I know she isn’t coming back. That she is forever gone. It is a pain I wish upon no one.
