sacrilicious13 | One year

April 24, 2008 was the day my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. One year ago today this nightmare started. The person I was on April 23 ceased to exist that day.

I wish I could go back and talk to that girl. I wish I could warn her of what was coming. I know that there's no way I could really prepare myself for the pain of losing my mother, but I wish I could try.

In some ways a year seems like a long time, but mostly I just find it hard to believe that it's only been twelve months. I look in the mirror and I don't look any different. My hair hasn't changed. My face is still the same, but I feel like I've aged twenty years.

I like to think that I wasn't a weak person to begin with, but I'm a lot harder now. The person I am today would never be depressed for a month over some worthless shitbag of a boy breaking up with her. Drama with friends and ex-friends seems a lot less important (though still pretty hilarious). Things that seemed crucial a year and a day ago just don't matter to me anymore.

A year ago, I thought my mother was immortal. The thought that she could be gone from my life didn't even seem like a remote possibility. The thought that I would be going to the other end of the country without her by my side would have seemed like a crazy idea. In a bit over two weeks, that crazy idea is becoming real.

I miss my old life. I miss having things be easy. Most of all I just miss my Mom.

I'm excited for road trips and new houses and summer and concerts and DUIA, and that irrational part of me still feels guilty for that excitement. I'm never going to be okay with losing my Mom. I'm never going to stop wishing there could have been another way, that I could just go to sleep tonight and have the past 365 days just be a terrible dream.

But Dumbledore said, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." Nothing is ever going to fill that void in my heart, but she wouldn't want me to give up. So I'm going to move to Texas and watch Supernatural and get a dog and open a pie shop and go to the beach and go to concerts and live. For both of us.

Tonight I'm going to watch our favorite movie, "Waitress," and remember.

I'm still sad. I'm always going to have that veil of sadness over me because she isn't there, but through that veil I can still see the sun.