I HATE that you are not here…that you are gone…that we won’t plan a wedding, a baby shower, a birthday party.
I HATE that your voice is silent…your giggles – oh, how I miss them and your quirky sense of humor, and that you called me weird and crazy, and that you gave me that look; AND that you called me lady, and Mommie.
I HATE that we don’t have “huggie time”, or pedicures, or lunch dates, or pancakes, or cafecito con panecito.
The list is endless…the pain suffocating!
It’s been said that “HATE” is such a strong and harsh word. Well, it’s NOT strong enough!
Don’t tell me you know how I feel when you are holding your little girl by the hand.
Don’t tell me you understand when no one is missing at your table.
In fact, you don’t have to say a word.
That proverbial fishbowl…that pedestal…ugh! I wish I could shatter that unseen glass; to get away from all the hacking eyes…to hide, to breakdown, to simply be! I wish I could take that “pedestal” and throw it against a concrete wall and watch it shatter, break, dissolve into a gazillion tiny pieces.
Maybe this would bring some relief…maybe…such maybe…