I hear your voice through the telephone and I wish I could reach into the receiver and pull you close to me, throw my arms around your shoulders and just hold you until your tears fade away. To you, the days are long and everything is a reminder of what you’ve lost.
To me, you’re the strongest person I know.
I can’t believe how long it’s been—months feel like seconds, years passing with blinks. You told me what she was like, how you still miss the touch of her hand on your skin and the way her voice is no longer loud in your mind. You often wonder what she would think about where you are, about what you’re doing, about the person you’ve become.
I know she is looking down on you, and beaming with pride.
I know that you can’t feel her presence, can’t reach out and grab her hand, can’t close your eyes and see her standing before you, can’t make her laugh, or smile, or kiss your forehead like she did when you were young. I know that you’re struggling with who you are, or whether or not she’d approve of your choices. I know you’re wondering where the hell you’re supposed to go on this journey of life, and long for her words to warm your heart.
But there’s something I feel for certain in the deepest part of my chest—your mama would be so damn proud of you if she were still here to tell you.
If she were here, she would grab you and squeeze your cheeks; she would hold you so tightly it would feel like you couldn’t breathe. She would share in your celebration, motivate you when you were down. She would encourage you to keep going, to find who you love and what it is that makes you passionate and go, even if and when the rest of the world isn’t in support.
She would love you, and loves you even now, simply because you are her incredible daughter—a woman of strength, and worth, and tenacity, and spirit—regardless of what this life has thrown at her.
I know if your mama was still alive, she would be in awe of the things you’ve accomplished, of the person you’ve become. She would be overjoyed at who you’ve chosen to give your heart to, and how you never let the world stop you from believing in yourself.
I know she would tell you to slow down sometimes, to smile more, to trust that life is imperfect, yes, but beautiful anyways. I know she would tell you that things will come and go, but it’s the memories you hold onto.
I know she would tell you that no matter how far she may feel, she’s always with you, within you.
I know that comfort can never fill the empty spaces, can never make sense of the ‘whys’ or answer the questions in your mind. I know that what you hear will never fully ease the pain, or give you the hope you need to walk forward without loneliness in your chest.
It’s okay to miss her.
But I hope you know she loves you, she sees you, she believes in you.
And she’s with you right now. Beaming with pride.