So here it is, nine years later. You know people lie; it doesn’t get any easier. And it seems the days meant to celebrate you are the hardest days. Your birthday and Mother’s Day. If I could stay home and cry, I would. Don’t worry, I got Tchoupitoulas (my dog, ironically born on the day you died). She cuddles with me anytime I cry.
I really hated buying you gifts too. You were a terrible recipient, and your facial expressions showed it. (I inherited that same face!)
But what I really think is most difficult is not being able to tell you everything. Literally. Dumb gossip, random thoughts, funny stories. You’d love it all because talking on the phone was your favorite hobby. Don’t worry though, I have plenty of friends that listen to my dumb stories.
So I am surviving. But I want you to know something, you were so good. As a mom, as a grandparent, as an aunt and godmother, as a friend, as a niece, as a mother-in-law, as a co-worker and as a daughter. And because you were so good, I’m good, too.
I’m not without fault because I’m human. But I’m a good mom, because you were so good. I’m a good aunt, because I watched you. You were a really good daughter. Man, you sacrificed a lot for your parents and let’s not forget Uncle Eddie (my great uncle pictured above). I know you were a good friend because your friends are still present. They didn’t forget you, and they haven’t forgotten me.
The role I miss you in most is grandmother. You rocked that for a year and change. You loved Murphy (my brother’s oldest son, now 9, pictured above) more than life itself. I know he knows it. Armand (my son) knows it, and he’s never met you. We talk about you often though, so he knows you love him. I guess you’re even good at being an angel.