No, no it does not. Today marks 49 months since I last saw my gorgeous mother. I had been at war with myself as to if posting something this serious so soon in my blogging journey was appropriate or not. I came to the conclusion that this is a blog for me to write the things I feel and do. I also want my readers to know that I am a person, a real person who has many different feelings and reactions to certain circumstances. So, something that has been a huge part of my young life has been death.

Death is something that I do not think I will ever understand. It is something that is inevitable, yet so mysterious. Death can be measured by time to some, and others…not so much. I am in that others category. I remember the very second I lost my mother. She had been battling cancer for a little over ninety days, but her spirit was so high. I would have NEVER thought I’d be receiving that call from my brother on that day. Very few people know this detail, but I think it’s something that needs to be known. I was with my mom up until 4:35 that previous morning. We were sleeping together her bed when she woke me up and asked me to leave her room. It was strange. I asked her why, and she gave me a very brief answer, “I don’t want you to see me like this.” I guess I was unaware of what “this,” meant, but she knew. It was at 6:31 that very morning my mother took her trip to heaven. I am so glad I hugged her (very gently because tight hugs hurt her fragile body at that point) and told her how much I loved her. Death is powerful.

From that morning forward, I was bombarded with texts and calls from people telling me how strong I was, and how they were all there for me. I appreciated that more than I vocalized at the time. I was also told by some that, “It gets easier with time,” and let me tell you, it doesn’t. I hate that phrase almost as much as I hate spiders. Time does nothing more than make the same exact pain a little bit more bearable. I don’t think easier is the right word to use. In the 49 months that I have been grieving, I have never once believed the pain will ever get easier. I still cry as hard as I did 49 months ago, I still ache as much as I did 49 months ago, and I still have a broken heart. I just now know how to handle that pain, that ache, and how to tape those broken pieces back together.  I used the word tape because those broken pieces don’t always stay in place. That is the point I am trying to make.

To those of you who have felt the pit death leaves in your stomach, you know what I am talking about. Tape is a temporary fix for a super glue type problem. We are still looking for our glue gun. I am, anyways. Maybe the fix becomes more permeant with time, but it doesn’t become a more easy fix.

I know this entry has been kind of all over the place, but I hope you understand the point I am trying to make. The hurt death brings does not get easier with time, it simply becomes more bearable.

Thank you to everyone who has been part of my support group the last 49 months.

And dear mom, I love you with my entire heart, broken pieces and all.