I wrote this last night but was unable to post due to laptops being lame and emotional exhaustion.

At least I’m posting now, right? That whole better late than never thing, mayhaps? ^^;

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Hey mom.

I need to write to you right now, and that sort of sucks because the only thing I have to type on is a micro Dell laptop that I guess Jon got when he first got out of basic training. I had mentioned to Jason that I was in the market for a laptop since I had to give mine back to work and he got this thing out for me to play around on. This is the first time I’m poking at it, and I can already tell that I won’t like it, but for right now, it’s the only thing I have to spill the words out on, so I suppose it’s serving its purpose.

I’m in Vegas right now. I’m with Jason, Lio, and Jace. I’ve only been here a few days, and I’ll only be here a few days more. There have already been some really hard moments for me and I need to tell you about them. I’m already crying which is frustrating because it’s hard enough to type on this tiny keyboard without the added complication of not being able to see what I’m typing; in Word Pad no less since this thing apparently doesn’t have the Office suite…

Anyway… Take off from Denver wasn’t so bad. I still had tears and the conflicting feelings of my brain begging you to be alive when I landed, just like the first flight out to Vegas five months ago, and the despair of knowing how futile feeling those emotions are because you’ll never be there. Not this time. Not next time. Not any time I fly. It’s like those emotions are ingrained into the experience of take off. The experience of not being connected to my phone for four hours and not knowing what was happening. Not knowing what I would be walking into when I got off the plane and wishing, bartering, begging with everything that I had for you to hold on long enough for me to say goodbye. To say I love you. Four hours of “Please be alive. Please be there.”

But you won’t be there anymore. And I know that. Yet I still feel everything so intensely when the plane starts down the runway, and it doesn’t matter that I know you won’t be there now. My brain still says those words and I still have to hide my face from the people sitting next to me so they don’t see the tears I can’t stop.

I know the feelings will be there now. I understand what it feels like and I’m better able to cope with them; the thoughts, the feelings. I’m sure I’ll still feel those feelings when I fly to Texas on Saturday. And I’m sure it will still hurt and I’m sure I’ll make it through the trip just like I’ve made it through all of the flights so far. It still sucks though, and I don’t know why but I want to tell you that it sucks. I want you to know that it hurts and that I miss you every time.

It sucks and I make it through it.

I read Jace his first bedtime story. I think that would have made you smile, but that was really hard too. I wasn’t prepared for it. I wasn’t prepared to walk into his room and to see your picture there on his dresser. I had to hold it together while he rummaged through his bookcase and picked out the story he wanted me to read to him.

Mom I wanted you to be there. I wanted you to be the one reading to him. It should have been you. You should have been there to smile at me and tell me how I am becoming a good aunt and that I’m so good with him. You should have been there to encourage me and to tell me that I’m not fucking things up with my not knowing what to do with a three year old.

We had dinner that night. Lio’s parents came over and that sucked because I was sad from reading the story to Jace and had to keep that sadness from consuming me. Jason, Lio, Jace and I sat at the kitchen table like a family and ate dinner together and I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream because it hurt so much. I knew it would it would hurt. The whole time I was in the kitchen making my plate the only thought I had was how I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to sit down. I didn’t want to do it because that would make things real.  But I knew it was something I was going to have to do. To face.

You’ll never sit with us again. Not that night. Not the next night. Not on Thanksgiving. Not ever.

It’s all of these stupid, trivial things that shouldn’t hurt but they do, mom. They hurt so much and I wish you were here so you could hug me because you always made everything feel better. You always made me feel like no matter what, no matter how much things sucked, or how much they hurt, that they would be ok. You always had a way of making me believe that I would be ok. And now that you’re not here I’m having to tell myself those words. I’m having to believe myself and sometimes that seems like the most impossible thing to do. Sometimes it still feels like a lie that I’m trying to make myself believe.

I don’t know how to handle the holidays this year. You won’t be here for Thanksgiving and if a normal family dinner hurt that much I can only imagine what that day will be like. Or my birthday. The first one without you calling me to wish me a happy day. Or Christmas just a few days after that. Not even a week. I guess that week is really going to hit me hard with so much so close together.

The first New Years without you…

Mom, how am I suppose to survive all of that?

Jason and I went out tonight. We went to different stores trying to find sandals for me to replace the ones I’ve had for four years. We went to a craft store because I told Jason about some art books I had seen and he was interested in them. We went to Barns and Noble and spent a while looking at books. I think that would have made you smile. You always loved that the three of us liked to read so much.

We went to dinner where they had paper on the table with crayons and I got to color and draw and I guess that impressed Jason. I don’t think he’s ever seen me draw. Not since going to school. We played a game of tic-tac-toe where neither of us won. We went to the movie theater and watched Star Trek. I think you would have liked the movies. I think you would have actually gone to the theater and watched it with us if you were still here. One of the few movies you might have been interested in.

I think the last time Jason and I had any time alone was seven years ago, when we still lived in South Carolina. I think the concerts he took me to where the only times we ever spent time alone. We were always with Jon, or Lio, or it was all of use together. I don’t mean for that to sound bad, because in my mind it isn’t. It’s just a fact that I realized. It was a really nice night. It was an amazing night where we both laughed and talked about games, and books, and movies, and got to remember just how similar we are even though there’s twelve years between us.

We had to drive past the hospital you stayed at. The one where you died. Part of me wants to go back there. Part of me wants to see the room. I don’t remember the room number even though at the time I thought I would never forget it. I would still be able to walk to it. I remember the elevator ride up. I remember walking down the sterile halls to your room. I remember Jon placing your ring into my hand.

I don’t know what it would do for me. Nothing… Everything… Would it hurt? Would it help? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a sick way for my brain to jab at this wound with a rotting stick. Who knows?

I know I won’t go there this trip. Maybe on another one though. Maybe one day it will happen.

I talked to Lio about the holidays. She wants all of use to come out. She thinks it will be good for Jon and I to be together. She thinks it would let us hash things out in a safe environment. I don’t want to be alone on those days, so I guess I’ll be here even if Jon is. I think Jason would put a stop to things if he started being vicious towards me.

I miss you, mom. I wish you could see the changes Lio has made to the house. You would be impressed with how crafty she is. You always were. I wish you could hear how much Jace is talking. I wish you could hear him count to 10. I wish you could see him dance to Turn It Down for What. You would think it’s the cutest thing in the world even though you would most likely despise the song.

I wish so many things, and it all comes back to wishing you were here.

I know you’re with me. Jace has already asked about the pendent I wear. The little urn I got so you would always be with me. He knows it’s something special. The way he looks at it. The way he reached for it while I was buckling him into the car seat when we went grocery shopping. It’s not the same as his fascination with other things. He loves you mom, and I so wish you could still be a part of his life.

I wish you could still be a part of mine. Physically.

I knew this would be the hardest part of my month of traveling. The days are getting easier the more I’m here. Dinner the second night didn’t hurt as much as the first. Reading the second bedtime story didn’t make me want to break down into tears. I made it through those firsts and survived. I’ll keep surviving my year of firsts.

And I guess that’s as good a point as any to end my one-sided conversation on. I’ll keep surviving, mom. I love you. I miss you. I know you’re still with me. I’m sorry it still hurts and I still cry.

I love you. Forever and for always, and I’ll keep surviving.