For the words still waiting
Some days it feels like yesterday. Some days it feels like a lifetime ago. Either way, you are here—and that means there may be something you still need to say.
Write her a letterYou came here for a reason
You may have typed those words late at night, when there was nobody you wanted to call. You do not need another person to explain stages or tell you she is in a better place. You may simply need somewhere to put the words: “I miss you.”
There are people here who understand that sentence without asking you to make it smaller.
There is no correct timeline
It can be light as a sigh, then suddenly heavy in the grocery aisle because you see the brand she always bought. That is not proof that you failed to move on. It is one of the ways a person remains woven into your life.
If today is hard, let it be hard. If today holds a warm memory, let that be true too. Grief does not ask you to choose one feeling.
You are not the only one
missing parent
Mom, I still open your contact and stare at it. I know no one will pick up, but seeing your name on the screen makes the world feel normal for two seconds. I got the job. I wish I could call and hear you say you knew I would.
Leave a notemissing parent
They called my name and everyone cheered. For one bright second I looked for you in the crowd. I wore the watch you gave me. I hope somehow that counts as having you there.
Leave a noteA letter left here
Mom, I still open your contact and stare at it. I know no one will pick up, but seeing your name makes the world feel normal for two seconds. I got the job. I wish I could call and hear you say you knew I would. I miss you. That is really all this is.
Another door may fit