#tw death
Let me be.
Let me have this hard day. Let me wallow in grief. Let me be lazy. Let me be angry. Let me be sad.
Let me be.
Let me mourn the brother I lost.
Let me mourn the life I could have had, had trauma, survivor’s guilt, and the physical embodiment of pain triggered by both not derailed it completely.
Let me mourn the mother I should be for my girls, if not for the debilitating illnesses of both mind and body.
Let me mourn the twenty years plus I spent believing it was my fault, shouldering the blame, for yelling words that were probably never heard.
So let me rage.
So let me cry.
So let me drown in this bad day, just as I have, year after year for twenty three years.
And let me be.
Let me be okay, in the knowledge that tomorrow is a new day.
Let me be relieved, that I know things Little Joelle didn’t know, couldn’t know, and that it was not her fault.
Let me hug my girls tightly, SO tightly, as if each time might be the last time.
Let me sob. Let me breathe.
Let me know it’s okay to feel my feelings.
Just let me be.
Today is the twenty third anniversary of Gabe’s accident.
It’s not a good day.
It never is.
