Life Without You

It's been over three years without you. Today marks your fourth birthday that you haven't been here for. You would have been 52.

I have these moments I call "what the fuck moments". They're moments where I remember you're gone, and no matter how hard I try, I simply can't make sense of the fact that you're not here. To realise that you are stuck only in photographs and memories, never to be tangibly reached again, is the worst kind of reality to try and come to terms with.

It's a reality I will never come to terms with.

I used to hate time, and the way it moved me further and further away from you. Still, it moves me, and still I hate that fact.

If you were here now, you would be so proud. So proud of us, your family. You were always so proud of me, and I miss that. I so wish you could be here so that I could be proud of you. I will always be proud of who you were, and I will always be proud to call you my mother.

I wish I could tell you everything - everything you've missed out on these past years... everything you should have been there for.

Sometimes I say things that make me feel like it's you speaking. I say something in particular, or I say something in a particular way, and it's you - it's you who is still with me somehow.

I miss you every single day, Mum, and I so wish you could be here. Happy Birthday.

To be alive

To have hopes and dreams

To love

And then to simply

Cease existing

I will never

Understand.