10 years of not physically seeing you. 10 years of diffusing your lessons and soaking in your wisdom. 10 years of wondering what life would have been like if circumstances had been different. As I get older, I often wonder what life would have been like if we were sharing a bottle of Cab Sav together right now. Would you be proud of the loudmouthed, wine-drinking, no bullshit-taking soul that you helped carve? Would we be chatting about boys? Would we be stealing clothes from each other?
These are questions that never really go away, but ones that I have grown to make peace with. An undeniable belief that you're always around me. Always remembering that everything I am; is because of you. Don't get me wrong - it's frustrating, it's painful, and it's sometimes a case of feeling sorry for myself. Why don't I have you and why did you have to leave? But, would I be the person I am now if you were still here? Probably not.
In hindsight, you were always teaching me about the concept of unwavering gratitude, through your lust for life and refusal to never hold on to resentment. You truly let go and you let live. You could light up a universe with your dirty jokes and one-winged butterfly cakes. You would pick up strays wherever you went and truly cared about bettering the world through the strongest sense of empathy and enthusiasm for humans.
Long before you left, you would read me excerpts from library books that detailed the purpose of life and the importance of extracting lessons from our singular experiences. It's so strange to think that you were somehow preparing me for life without the physical you. 2020-me has an appetite for life that is built on a pure appreciation for every single moment and person in my life - not based on a fear that they'll leave, but rather on the belief that the seemingly small moments are actually the big ones.
I'll never forget the moment I lost the earthly you and it's something that I have to practice being better at. Cancer is an absolute mind f**k and I have to be forceful with the weaker memories - separating two aspects of one's life and remembering that the boney frame, sunken eyes and dissipating hair are simply the disease. Whenever you needed a pick-me-up, you would ask me to play "Send Me on My Way" by Rusted Root (yes, the Matilda song) on my phone, and I'd see pieces of you pushing through the head bops and the crinkle in your smile. You found peace in the simple and mundane, and it always reminds me that this is what life is about - a constant stream of appreciation and gratitude for the small breaths.
Thank you for being the best possible mother a girl could ever want or need. You were imperfectly perfect - a sublime example of joie de vivre passing through this life, teaching us all how to find love in the cracks. Thank you for choosing me. And, thank you for never truly leaving me.
