Nothing But Time

Today is March 4th 2014.

That means it's been 32 days.

32 days since my mom died.

My mom died.

Nothing about that sentence seems real.

It didn't the day she died and it doesn't a month after the fact.

My mom died.

The woman who raised me. The woman who shaped me. The woman who made me

the person I am today, died 32 days ago.

Even now as I sit here, typing this, it doesn't seem possible.

I miss her more with every passing day.

There hasn't been a moment when I haven't thought about her.

And although that might sound like an exaggeration, let me assure you, it's fact.

Everyone has said that only time will heal these wounds.

Only time will help. I just need to give it time.

But the truth is, a part of my life...a part of me...has been removed.

It's as if a fire has been extinguished. It wasn't left to burn out on it's own time...slowly until the flame became embers and the embers became soot.

This fire was stomped out and I was left with nothing but an ashen stain. A permanent mark. A constant reminder of what once was.

I don't see how "time" is going to fix that.

Is time going to bring her back?

Is time going to give me 5 more minutes with her?

is time going to let me tell her that I love her?

All I can see time doing is prolonging my pain.

And at this point, I feel like I'm a perpetual grieving machine.

I'm fueled by misery and all I do is produce more sorrow.

I wish I was just being dramatic, but sadly, it's the truth.

I'm not sitting in the corner of a darkened room crying myself to sleep every night, but I'm not the same person I was before either.

Before she died, I was a pretty happy-go-lucky guy. I was fun to be around...go on, just ask any of my friends...they'll tell you.

I was pretty active. I liked to host parties...hang out at the beach...go fishing...surf...ride my motorcycle...generally just go out, have fun and enjoy myself.

Now, I don't care about any of it. None of it excites me or interests me in any way.

I simply do not care.

And I don't care about not caring.

The world simply seems bland and unappealing and I'd rather just not participate.

I miss her and I miss the person I was because of her. And I don't see how time will make me whole.

My mom died.

And time can't do a goddamn thing about it.