January 15, 1999
Dear Mom,
The funeral is tomorrow, but I don't think I can go. I mean, I have to, and I will, but it feels like I can't. The pain in my heart where you used to be is unbearable. I'm afraid you didn't know how much you meant to me.
You loved me unconditionally, and that would have been enough. But you never stopped giving, and I love you so much for that. You were always there to cry or laugh with me, no matter what the occasion or what mistake I had made. You set a good example, the best example, for me to follow and I can only hope to become half the person you arewere. I have to remember to use past tense now and hope that eventually it won't hurt every time I do.
It hurts so much, Mom. It is almost more than I can bear. I just want to fall into your arms right now, hug you and never let go. The outside world keeps on moving, but at home everything is still, silent. The silence scares me.
Sometimes Dad gets up to do something, but mostly he just sits in his chair, staring at your wedding photo on the mantle. I don't remember the last time either of us have eaten or even spoken. The vacant look in his eyes is the worst, so I stay in my room. But even here, everything reminds me of you. The stuffed elephant you have me for Christmas when I was little. The picture of us skating on my desk. The birthday present I brought back from Stanford, hidden in my closet under my summer clothes. I can't do anything but sit here and cry. I don't know how I'll fare in the world tomorrow. Showering, dressing, and makeup will easily make me look presentable. But I don't feel presentable on the inside. I feel like I will shatter into a million pieces at a sudden noise or burst into flames when I step into the sun. I don't want to go out and experience the world without being able to return home and tell you about my adventures later.
Maddie's called several times now, but I can't bring myself to pick it up. She will try to cheer me up and I don't feel like being cheered up right now. I wonder if that makes me a bad friend. The problem is, I can't bring myself to care. The only person I want to talk to is you. And it hurts that I can't.
Love,
Kate