boxes

It has been almost a year,
I cannot believe how time has passed.
The boxes I've had since last December
mostly sit in a corner collecting dust.
I've avoided opening most of them, pretending
they are simply not there.
Boxes of emotions, boxes of memories,
boxes of hopes that are now empty.
Boxes of laughter, boxes of pain,
boxes long forgotten.

This time last year, I was buying you
a blue sweater.
Blue was your favorite color and you
were always cold.
I was coming to visit you for your birthday.
You would be turning 51 soon if...

I've fought a lot of regret in the last year.
I've learned it is not a friend you want to keep around.
There is never enough you can do to appease it.

I remember you telling me that you were scared.
I cried silently with you and tried to be strong.
I built walls to keep the pain in,
but it spills out in unexpected moments.
I stuffed it all in a box to avoid facing the reality that...

I remember when you let me drive,
not yet thirteen, on that dirt road by your house.
We laughed as I almost hit the fence.
I remember baking with you,
turtles and cookies,
scents of sweetness filling the air.
Those boxes have been sorted through,
and placed in special places in my heart.
There are others though...

When I lost you in December,
it was not the first time I mourned over you.
And I am still trying to figure out how to feel,
since really you have been gone most of my life.
Some of what hurts the most is the realization
that this year has gone by like most of the others,
and that your absence didn't change much.
But when the moments come,
and I know that I will not see you again,
or hug you, or laugh with you,
the pain is so deep words cannot describe.
More deep than when you were just 430 miles away.
At least then I could cross the distance to get to you.

So, I am still sorting through my boxes,
some that I have put under piles of other things
as the milestones begin to pass for the first time.
I remember telling my brother that we may not
have you for another Christmas.
I didn't think we wouldn't have you for last year's.
I miss you, and I miss what having a mother
means for a young girl's life.
I think sometimes I miss the very idea of you.

Maybe this season I will unpack a few more boxes.
Some will have to wait until I reach new
chapters in my life.
I know I cannot leave them forever.
The walls I made are not made to last.
And the One who made me
has a greater plan than the walls I built.
He restores what has been lost,
and puts hope into empty places.
He will take me through each box as
I keep moving on.

I love you and miss you mom.