I can't believe it's been eight months since my mom passed.
What's been tough is that I've been stuck.
It all happened so fast.
It wasn't supposed to happen.
We were hoping it wasn't going to happen.
So I never got to say goodbye.
In these eight months I've only been to the cemetery a handful of times.
And then only because my husband would drive me there without asking whether or not I wanted to.
Every time I could see he was driving that way I would cringe.
I didn't want to go.
Yet every time we would go I was glad we did.
I kept hoping every time I went there that I could finally let everything out, and maybe get some closure so I wouldn't constantly be so full of anger and confusion.
It never happened.
The other day something told me I had to go there by myself.
I finally got the chance today.
At first I didn't think anything was going to really come out, but I knew I had to try.
At first I stood there and made small talk.
And then it came out.
I talked and I cried and I talked and I cried.
I got to say everything that has been swirling around me for over eight months.
And then I said goodbye.
Now I am home and I can hear the birds singing a little more clearly.
I think I'm going to be alright.
Carol B.
