Defining.

It's really difficult.
People don't understand that her death - it defines me. When I introduce myself to people, I want to say, 'Hello, my name is Mary. 25 years old, Virgo. Motherless, as of 10 months ago.'

This isn't something that is a 'tragedy'. It's not something to 'get over'. This was cancer. And the disease, it's still there. It's weaving its way through my thoughts daily. I hate it. I hate it. 


I saw a woman at the store today. She looked just like my mom. I hate her. I hate her for having the same hair cut as my mom. For being the same height. For wearing glasses. For making me fall apart inside in public. For causing the familiar throbbing burn in the back of my throat.

How do you explain these things... to people who haven't lost a mother? To people who are defined by career or by parties or by Jesus or by smiles?

How do you explain the sleepless nights. The anger. The medication that just makes me feel crazier.
I MISS MY MOM.
I miss her so damn much.
I miss her smell. I miss her voice. I miss her hugs. I miss her silence. I miss her when I watch the same TV shows that she watched. I miss her yelling at me. I miss the way she cooked. I miss seeing her by the stove. I miss her cute mom pants. I miss her soft hands and perfect nails. I miss her smile. I miss her crooked teeth. I miss her, I miss her, I miss her.  It's not fair.

I feel like I can wake up tomorrow, and have a voicemail waiting from her. I feel like putting the cement block over her grave was premature. What if Jesus cured her and she is stuck in the coffin?

Irrational thoughts. But they're there. They haunt me.
It's just... really difficult.