Two Years Later

"Time heals all wounds."

The deep ache that still exists within me contradicts that statement. Time has passed. 730 days have passed, to be exact. And yet the wound is still fresh. It is still difficult to catch my breath when the memories flood my mind. 

I can still feel those days as if I'm there now. There, living those last moments we shared with Mama before her body could go no more. I can feel the stillness in the room as we waited for the inevitable. I can hear the rattle of her breath as her lungs fought and fought. She fought to stay with us for as long as she could.

I believe she wanted to stay as long as she could, to soak up every last second.

But I also believe she yearned for the freedom her soul was only just beginning to experience. I believe in those last moments that she was hovering between our two worlds, held fast by her physical body to the place below while her soul tried to break free and soar. To soar high into the clouds, high into the perfect love she'd spent her life believing in.

I can remember the last breath she took. Hearing one final exhale, and then nothing.

Silence.

Stillness.

And then relief. Relief that her fighting was over. Joy knowing she was finally free of her pain. And the peace, oh that consuming peace, that told us Heaven met Earth in those moments that followed.

I remember holding her hand, struggling to find the willpower to let go. I remember being the last one in the room with her, unsure how to leave her again. I didn't want to say goodbye. I remember giving her one final hug, feeling the fleeting warmth of her. 

My Mama. The last moment I ever felt her on this Earth.

It is two years later. Two years of sunrises and sunsets. Two years filled with my feet touching the ground of foreign places. Two years filled with the loss of one baby and the birth of another. Two years of relationships changing and souls evolving. Countless moments of wishing she were here, and even more moments where I carried her along in my heart. 

I look at my children sometimes and wish she could see them. I wish she could watch Camden play, hear her sing her silly songs. I wish she could see the joy in her. I wish she could know Blaise. I wish she could see his eyes so blue and smile brightly over their shared trait. How my heart burns, knowing my baby boy didn't get to meet his Mimi. 

These things won't get easier. Instead, these moments will eventually sting less as they become part of my new normal. I won't ever stop missing my Mama. The yearning to have known her will never stop. 

No, time doesn't heal all wounds. But maybe, in time, the wounds will hurt a little less.

 

I hope the last two years have felt like just a second for you, Mama. I hope that you are existing in a tangible love and perfect peace. And I hope that you've seen the highlight reel of the last two years of my life. I hope you have felt those moments I held you in my heart and somehow experienced them with me. 

I miss you every day. And I know it's selfish, but sometimes I wish you were still here. I cry over missing you, but I also celebrate this day knowing it is the anniversary of your freedom.

I love you, Mama. I'll see you soon.