One year gone

It’s been exactly one year since my mother passed away.

Mostly, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t have anything new or profound to write on the topic. And I’m not willing to dive into the deep and murky places of this subject yet. Even after 365 days, it still feels as if I just pulled my skin off yesterday, so fresh and raw and bare.

But I feel forced to acknowledge in some way this momentous thing — this thing that stirred up so much grief, anger, anxiety and gratitude in me — this enormous thing that means I now live in a world without a mom.

So I’ll just say that I didn’t love her enough while she was here.

And I still miss her.