Every day I see her look up at me with a child-like smile…
She sits
quietly as I comb her beautiful grey–black hair, wincing every time I hit a knot…sensitive
as always and refusing to comb out the knots in her hair as always…
Every day I
watch her and miss her…the laughter, the inside jokes, the arguments, the
knowing glances, the crazy conversations…my confidant...
I regret every
moment in my life when I snapped at your constant questions…questions that I
wish you’d ask now…when I didn't respond to your messages...messages I wish you'd send now...when I hung up on you because I was busy or irritated...call me now, mom...I have all the time in the world for you...
I regret
not engaging with you more…not learning from your vast wisdom and knowledge...I yearn for your opinion now…please
criticize my dressing style, please tell me off for coming home late, please call me and ask if I ate, please
just tell me anything…mom
Each day as
she becomes a shadow of her former self…my heart breaks a little bit more…
the beautiful smile, the hands that look so much like mine…the posture, confidence, commanding presence, and beautiful mind I wish I had inherited…all fading away…
Each day, as
I watch her become more of a child, I break a little inside…to watch her pride melt into child-like submissiveness...the heartache...
Is it wrong
to grieve for a loss that hasn’t happened yet?
