Dear Merry I’m scared
Dear Merry I’m so unprepared
Why didn’t they say something sooner?
I wish I knew
I wish I could say all the things I needed to
Now I’m holding your hand while your shaking
And I know you don’t understand and there’s no chance of your waking
And I can’t
I can’t figure out why they’re taking you
I still need you to walk me down the isle
I still need to tell you all the things that are wrong and hear you say, “it’ll be alright” with a smile
But I know you won’t
I know you’re not coming back
And my dreams taunt me with your arms around my heart
And the vision is haunting when I wake and it’s gone.
And I remember it’s been so long
I remember that night when we got in the car, she said we were going to see you and she wouldn’t say why
The girls were laughing in the back and my mind was racing and she kept staring straight ahead and wouldn’t look at me or answer my questions and I said, “she’s dying isn’t she?”
I knew, I felt all the lies crumble in that moment of truth and I shut down.
After I spoke I saw her start to sob and I wondered what thing would rob us of you
I knew there was nothing I could do but I wanted to
I wanted it to all be a bad joke, but ten years later I’m still waiting for that punch line
I remember the doctor walking in
And I wanted to tell him to stop
I was waiting for the heart monitor to jump back on
For you to wake up
For the miracle I was promised
But as we shuffled out of the room, I looked back and saw a tear of blood and I felt the finality of it all.
I waited, I waited so long for you to come back, for weeks I woke up from dreams of you, returning to the emptiness and I still had hope.
I was told God brought his prophets back all the time, it was a cruel joke to play on a twelve year old
I was so willing to believe anything that would bring my mother back to me
That was a big lesson I had to learn quite early in life
Everyone lies, including those who you’re supposed to trust
Those are the hardest lies, the ones you want to believe
She was never coming back.
I felt the loss, I felt a newfound freedom, and a guilt over my freedom
Over the choices I made without my mother’s guidance
Over the person I was and who I was becoming
It’s been ten years.
Ten years since I lost my mother
Ten years since I started down a rough path of learning and self discovery
Ten years to find another way of coping besides running to my mom
And it feels like yesterday
The pain and loss haven’t dulled one bit
Some days I feel it all
The anger, the fear, the sorrow, the missing pieces
I’ve just learned to live without
And with memories I try my hardest to keep alive
The ones she left with all ten of us kids
She lives on