June 3, 2011
I can’t believe an entire year has passed that I have not shared one day with you. Your giggle has been absent from my ears, your smile has not brightened my eyes; your nose has not nuzzled my neck as you cuddled close. I cannot get use to you not being attached to my arm. To not feel your cool fingers wrap around me as we walk. Everyday…everywhere we went we walked arm in arm. I miss that!
There are days I ache to talk to you. I miss all of conversations so much. I’m always wondering what you would think about the directions are lives have taken. What you would say to each decision we have made since you left us.
The need to see you and hear your voice gets stronger the more time passes. A little voice whispers in my head reminding me of all our family video tapes. I know you remember those. We spent entire days camped out on the couch watching them. Sometimes just you and I and other times the crew would gather. As the day would unfold and your brothers, sister, cousins, aunts and uncles would drift in and out of the house the living room would fill up. As soon as they say we were having a family video day they would grab a blanket and a spot in the living room and burrow in for the day. Dinner never got cooked those day. We always turned them into a pizza and chicken wing day. We just couldn’t get enough of them.
I haven’t had the courage to watch a home movie since you last slept in this house. I want to…I ache to but am afraid to. I have found a routine in which I can function with your absence. If I watch a video and see you, hear you then I’m afraid the ache I try to bury deep inside will rise to the top and overflow taking what control I have…control I guard very closely. I’m afraid I will not be able to function. I can’t do that to daddy, to Sam, Nick or Angie. I know the day will come when I can no longer take not seeing you and pop a tape in the machine. You know my motto. Worry about it when it happens. So when it’s time to press ‘play’ I’ll worry.
There are so many things I want to say to you. So many conversations we missed out on. I hardly know where to begin. I began a journal that I call ‘Letters to Melina’ that I have been writing in since our last day together. There has been some space in between many letters. Sometimes I talk to you out loud and don’t feel like repeating myself on paper. For a while I have been in a writing fog but that seems to be getting better.
I feel like I need to tell you some of my regrets. Yes I have regrets. I second guess the choices we made throughout you cancer journey and I envision different paths we could have taken. Many have told me that I shouldn’t do that. That I have to have faith that we did all we could to save you. They’re right….but when you are a parent who has lost a child you always have regrets, you always second guess yourself. At the end of the day I do realize that we did all we could and that the outcome of different choices could of brought worse results instead of better. My thoughts certainly drift down these paths from time to time but fortunately I have been able to drift right out of them. Thinking of the warrior you were has helped me continually do that. Even though 13 years was not enough time I am thankful to have had each one of them with you.
I think the biggest regret that haunts me is not realizing that at some point you would stop talking. The first few days after we brought you home for the last time there was much to organize. At times I left you in the hands of your grandmother, uncles, Aunts, brothers or sister to take a break and walk outside for a bit.
I did not know you would go silent so quickly. One minute you were yelling for a new movie or green popsicles and the next you were silent forever.
I regret not staying by your side 24/7. I regret not holding your hand every minute, nuzzling your cheek with my kisses and whispering all that you mean to me in your ear. I wish I could have that time back to listen to your thoughts, wishes and dreams one more time. I regret all the conversations we missed. I just wasn’t prepared for you to go silent so quickly. I feel like I blinked my eyes and you drifted away. I could not catch you. I could not bring you back.. I’m so sorry Lovely
Since you moved to Heaven Melina living through each day has been like drifting through an early morning fog high on a mountain top. One moment the haze so thick visibility is impossible. The next moment recognizable shapes appear. Luckily all of my foggy days cleared enough for me to see life relentlessly holding on to me….not letting me drift into invisibility.
It is not easy to navigate this new life. You give me strength. I know you are with me. Sometimes I can feel your presents. I know you are trying to help me. Please don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about the tears you see on my face or the sadness you see in my eyes. You always fought…….so I will always fight!
I need you to understand My Lovely; my tears are not for you they are mine. Mine to shed. They are the only way I can let the ache out and not let it swallow me up. I do not cry because I worry for you. Since you took Jesus’ hand I knew where you were and who you were with. I know you are safe and for that I am grateful.
Melina I cry for me because I miss you. I cry for the sorrow I see every day in Daddy’s eyes, for the longing I see on Sam & Nick’s face when they are looking for you. For the ache I see in Angelina each time she is watching her cousins bond with their sisters knowing she no longer has you to do that with. That breaks my heart.
So you see Melina….my tears are for my sorrow. Maybe one day they will not fall so often but for now I will just let them be. You don’t know how many times I wish I could change the hands of time and have you back. But I would never want to take you from the paradise you live in now and bring you back to a life of suffering and illness. The fact that you no longer suffer is the only small scrap of peace I can find.
So one day…one year….it is all the same! Life now is a game. A game of balance. Balancing the sorrow and the new life that was forced upon us. A life without you. I know you don’t want us to cry any more. I know you want me to stop hanging on to ALL your things but I am not ready. Maybe one day…but no promises.
Every time I hear your name or see your picture I burst with pride. You were such a wonderful kid Melina. It was my pleasure, my honor, my delight to be your mother.
If I were told at the beginning. That I would only have you for 13 years. That the last six of those years would be in an all-consuming cancer battle. With all the stress, hardships, let downs and fear I would not hesitate to do it all over again just so I could be with you. I hope you knew that you, your brothers and sister have been and are the greatest gifts of mine and Daddy’s lives.
I love you,
I Miss you desperately,