I miss my mom so much. It bloats my stomach and constricts my chest in a pain that makes me want to vomit. It’s rare that I allow myself to feel this way, to let it all out, but letting it out is where the healing is. I do it quietly in our hotel room because if I actually open up my mouth I’m afraid that the wail that would emerge would be so loud and animal like that the other hotel guests would surely believe that I was being murdered.
This will pass. The moment Johanna stirs from her nap and we gave to go on our next adventure, or when my husband turns over because I sniffled just a little too loud and he’s wondering what’s won’t while I quickly wipe the tears away because pity and concern are still two reactions that I can’t seem to get used to. But for right now I’m just going to let myself miss my mama. I’m going to let the tears fall and I’m going to whisper to Jesus how much I hurt and I’m going to let him rock me until I’m soothed.
To all the motherless children out there, know that I feel your pain. No matter when they left this Earth, it will always feel like they were gone too soon.