9 months

 It’s been 9 months since my mom passed away from covid. 

9 months seems like 9 years and 9 days all wrapped into one. 

I am consistently filled with sadness, despair and a tremendous amount of guilt.

I can’t shake it some days. 

I know you would all tell me that I have nothing to be guilt ridden of.

That of course I did the best I could for my Mother. 

That I would have been by her side if I could have. 

That she knows that. 

The thing is. 

I wasn’t.

I couldn’t. 

And I am living with this. 

I’m living with this tremendous “thing“ on my shoulders that I can’t shake.

That the woman who carried me into this world was left alone to leave the world. 

That my Mom, who was my best friend, who I spoke with 1-10 times a day, died alone. 

I am distraught.

Not every day. 

But many days.

I shake and cry at the very thought of her being alone. 

I’m told - “but she was so sick she didn’t know you weren’t there”

BUT. I. KNOW.

9 months. 

Seems like 9 years. 

And 9 days.

399,000 other people are in my shoes. 

We’ve walked this walk together.

This isn’t forever (but the lives we lost are)

but it’s also not going away tomorrow. 

Mask up.

Stay safe.

Be kind.