• Rashida

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Updated: Dec 31, 2019



Dear Mom,


"Your life made me stronger. Your passing made me stronger. And now I'm living my life for the both of us."

I found that quote years ago and typically post it on this day every year. Today is 14 years. 14 years since I last spoke to you. 168 months since I last saw you. 5,110 days that I've been walking around in a world where you don't laugh and joke. Damn. That's a long, long time for a girl to be without her mom. And to think I still have so much longer to go.


14 years means I've almost reached the point in my life in which I've been without you for longer than I had you. A grief equilibrium of sorts. A scale tip. I feel like I should say that I'm a completely different person than I was when you passed, but I don't really think that's true. I'm becoming who you raised me to be only with a bit more grit and strength. I have long said that you must have known you wouldn't be with me for as long as you would have liked, because you taught me so many life lessons so early on. I am strong. There is nothing I can't overcome. I've done a lot of talking in therapy about how I've come to love my struggle. I've come to love the journey that got me here. Even recently I said that i'd do it all over again if it got me to Dom. BUT even still, I miss you! I miss the comfort that only comes from a mom. I get teary eyed when I think that I get the privilege to bring that comfort to Dom, but then wrecked at the thought that maybe I won't get enough time with him. You didn't get enough time with me. You didn't get any time with Dom. I know you would have loved being a grandma to this amazing little boy. He has your nose and your silliness. He's beautiful! I won't lie, his light AF skin next to your dark chocolate tone would have been hilarious. I'm 90% sure he's going to be a class clown or at least annoyingly chatty like someone else we both know.


One of two tattoos I have to carry you with me everyday.

Becoming a mom without you has been....tough. It hurts at the moments I least expect it. It comes in the quiet moments. It didn't hurt the moment Dom was born, but it did in the weeks the followed. In the middle of the night as I sat hooked to my breast pump, I missed you then. On his first Christmas when I quietly sang Silent Night (The Temptations version, duh!) to him, I missed you then. When he got his first cold and I had no effing clue what to do, I missed you then. When he yells, "Mommy," when I get home from work, I miss you then too.


I know you wish you could be here with us today. I knew it before I became a mom, but I understand it now. But I get that we have no control who lives, who dies, who tells our story. I'm going to keep telling your story.


I love for always,

Your best friend




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