Banner designed with love by Abby Goutal, owner of Manon's Garden

Missing you

I miss you every hour of every day. But today, I miss you even more.

Written by Connie Small, December 13 2001.

My emotions are so strong today. Actually, I've been very emotional since last Saturday. It's almost as though I've just found out you've died. It's so hard to believe that I will never see you again. I will never touch your face, never hold your hand. I won't hear your voice or your magical laugh. I go to the store, the doctor, to the mailbox, anywhere at all.........and I miss you. I look all around me and I see happy people, preparing for the holidays. I want to shout at them, "How can you be happy? My child has died! How can you not know she is gone and that my life will never be the same? How dare you act as though nothing has happened!". The sun still rises. I still wake each morning. My first thoughts, are still of you and how much I miss you. I go through the motions of normalcy. The way life was when you were still here. Sometimes, I think if I act normal enough, you'll come back to me.

I think of things we've done together and know that those times are only in the past. I miss those times. I relieve them over and over, trying to recall every tiny detail. I try to imagine things we would have done in the future. I miss those times. I grieve for the grandchildren I'll never have. I hurt for all the little, everyday, ordinary times in life that you won't have. Going to see a movie and eating popcorn and Junior Mints. Going grocery shopping and then eating ourselves into oblivion when we got back home. More often than not, we'd stop at the video store before returning home, so that we'd have movies to watch while we stuffed ourselves.

I remember our little secrets. The special talks we had. I remember the closeness we shared. When you had the kidney stone, I remember how it hurt me that I couldn't take away your pain. I would gladly have traded places with you. I was there when you woke up in the recovery room after having the kidney stone removed. One week from being 18 and your first words were, "Where's my mom?". I remember the happiness I felt, because I was there when you needed me.

I'd heard of the empty nest syndrome, but I never knew exactly what it was until you moved out. You were 18 and anxious to try your independence on for size. I soon found out, just how horrible empty nest syndrome really was. I cried and cried, because I missed you so much. At the same time, I was so proud of you because you had a great job and were taking care of yourself.

I miss what we used to do. I miss what we were going to do. I just miss you.

Our time together was infinitesimal. My love for you is finite. Forever plus one more day.
Mom