Oh, mother! It’s been four years since I heard your melodic voice, seen your beautiful face, smelled your fragrant perfume, tasted your homemade cooking, and felt your broken heart that now mirrors my own. For so long, it was easier to joke around and hate you for disowning me, but somewhere along the way, I found the tear-stained strength to be gentle and kind towards your antique memory. I don’t know where you are. I don’t know if thoughts of me ever cross your mind. Where are you?! I need you! Oh, mother! I’m sorry! I forgive you! It feels like you passed away! I don’t think you love me anymore! I want to caress your mascara cheek and wipe away all your pain, all your hatred that keeps you from turning the page of a fairy tale that never reached its tranquil end. Please be happy! But I can’t turn the page for you. There’s too much serenity in my own story. I can feel the soil slipping from my fingers as the sadness takes over me and waters yet another loving, traumatic memory. I stare six feet below me into the vast unknown in hopes that something…. anything will grow between us again.
I was too afraid to speak up at your memorial so I wrote this for you:
I didn’t know you that well, Sara, but everyone’s stories helped me piece together an idea of who you were. So many people care about you. You were always out there meeting new people who automatically became friends with you. You taught me that being dark isn’t as powerful as being an angel. I wanna be just like you. Friendly. Loving. Positive. And everything else wonderful that made you who you were. I wish I got to know you better. I’m glad I got to find out as much as I could from the people’s lives you touched. I hate myself sometimes for joking about death and suicide. I’m sorry that my dark humor is the only thing keeping me from falling apart. I tend to overlook other people and assume that I’m the only one who hurts. I always wonder why not many people pay attention to me or why their faces never light up when I walk into a room. Now I understand it’s because I don’t put myself out there in the community like you did. You were amazing! You went to so many events to spread awareness and even spoke in front of politicians about mental health equality! You always smiled so I never thought you were going through so much that you would end your life the way you did. You once told me that you were fascinated with how I am. But now it’s easier to admit that I’m fascinated with how you were too. I can never be nearly as caring and kind to people like you used to be. I have been hurt by others so many times that I tend to put my earbuds on just to have an excuse not to hear them. I drown the world out with music. Now, I feel like all the emotions I have repressed for so long are spilling out like a tsunami. It’s unbearable. Why did you die and not me? I know if I continue to remain the same, I will continue to miss opportunities to know other aspiring people like you. I doubt my memorial service will be nearly as populated as yours were when I die someday. So one of my new goals in life is to positively affect so many lives that people will care enough to love me the way they loved you. You will be missed and it was a pleasure meeting you, my dear.
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