Submission 31

Mama,

It’s been 1 year- 4 seasons, 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes, 31536000 seconds- since my world shattered. The words “your mom killed herself” forever ring in my ears and shattered my heart.

I struggle with figuring out my emotions surrounding your suicide.

On one hand, I totally fucking get it. I understand wanting so badly to be dead, wanting so badly for everything to end. I understand that life can be a terrible experience. In fact, I’m happy that you’re no longer hurting and suffering from unbearable pain.

But on the other hand, I don’t get it. I don’t get how killing yourself was the answer. I don’t get why you wouldn’t want to stick around to see all the beautiful things your loved ones will do, the wonderful lives they will create, or see the journeys they will embark on. I don’t understand why you thought it would be better this way.

I’m full of anger, jealousy, sadness, guilt, and shame.

I’m angry because you fucking left us, and in such a violent traumatic way. You left your babies behind, when some of us needed you most. I’m jealous of everyone whose mama is still around. To be totally honest, I’m fucking jealous that you completed suicide and I couldn’t because I was too scared.
I’m filled with sadness. But not the teary eyed and bawling type of sadness. I’m filled with a sadness that is deep and heavy. A sadness that never seems to completely go away. A sadness that is gnawing into my bones.
I feel guilt and shame because i couldn’t save you and make everything better. I pushed you away. I stopped talking to you. I ignored you the last time you told me you loved me. I told you to fuck off and that I didn’t need you.

I lied. We all still need you.

1 year. 4 seasons. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8760 hours. 525600 minutes. 31536000 seconds. And my world hasn’t stopped falling apart.