Letter to Brian: May 9, 2016

Dear Brian,

Well yesterday was Mother’s Day.  And it was my first Mother’s Day without Moooooomie.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt as deeply alone as I did yesterday, dude.  The one person I knew I could absolutely count on to remember what holidays and anniversaries mean after a loss like this is gone; Mooomie was the only one I could always look to on those days and know that she knew what I was going through because she was going through it, too.  But yesterday there were moments I just sat there feeling sorry for myself and figuring everyone had forgotten me.  I was drowning.  I did have a couple of dear souls reach out to me yesterday because they knew it was going to be a difficult day for me.  I’m so deeply grateful they remembered. But one thing in particular really got me good in the feels… my friend got me a Mother’s Day card from Bear and Bubba, my cats.  There are no words to describe what that meant to me because that is something that Moooomie did for me every single year; I always got a card from “my kids” with a little gift. I don’t know if this friend happened to know that already or if she just wanted to do something nice for me… or if maybe Mooomie gave her a little nudge from the “other side.”  However it came to be, it was amazing and it meant the world to me because it gave me back a little reminder of what Mother’s Day was like when Moooomie was still here.

The night before, I had gone to bed at 7:45pm… for the second night in a row.  I still managed to sleep in until about 11:00am and waddled from the bed out to the couch to snack on cold, leftover pizza and watch one of Mom’s favorite TV series.  The episode I’d had cued up next just so happened to be one that highlighted the strong love between a Mother and her child and at the end of the emotional 45-minute episode I found myself sobbing uncontrollably.  I decided that was a good time to go back to bed for a while; after all, I’d already been up for over an hour.  I needed my rest.  Honestly, I just didn’t want to be awake for any of it.  And I knew I certainly didn’t want to go out in public where I’d undoubtedly be surrounded by families everywhere and I just plain didn’t want to see them celebrating what I couldn’t.

I assume at some point this aching in my soul will dissipate; I’ve spent the last 5 years learning how to navigate my life without you in it, now I just have to learn how to do that all over again with our Moooomie.  The difference is now, I don’t have you to rely on in my grief like I had her to rely on when I was grieving for you.  I recall being so deeply envious when I’d see my friends with their siblings and it was really hard to be around them because it reminded me of what I had lost.  I wanted what they had. That feeling slowly improved and it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to when I see siblings together.  I mean, it still hurts… but it doesn’t debilitate me as often as it did a few years ago.  But shit… yesterday just did a really awful number on me.  And get this, dude… as horrible as I was feeling yesterday, I managed to not harm myself at all yesterday.  Go figure!  And I even found the energy to get some cleaning done at the apartment!  I can’t take too much credit for that, however.  Had there not been an internet outage in my neighborhood, I assure you that I’d have continued to plant myself in front of the TV for an all-day Netflix marathon until it was time to move back to the bed again.  But instead I used those few hours without WiFi to give my little abode some much needed TLC.  Another surprise.

After I figured I’d done enough “work” for the day I decided to order some Chinese food for dinner.  Again.  Since the WiFi was still not working I decided to watch your favorite movie, “Gladiator.”  I’ve watched that movie at least once a year since you died because it makes me feel closer to you.  I was about an inch away from putting in Moooomie’s Memorial DVD but the thought of seeing a steady stream of pictures of her just seemed to be far more than I was capable of handling yesterday.  So Gladiator won out, instead.  I’ve always seen so many similarities between you and the moral character of Maximus and I can readily see why you loved the movie so much.  But yesterday was my first time watching it since Mooomie died and that last scene ripped my heart out and stomped it to pieces; it might as well have been just another hunk of meat on the dusty floor of the Colosseum.  There was Maximus, in his very last seconds of life and you can see the very moment when his eyes begin to fixate on something not seen by those around him and you just know, at that very moment, that he’s leaving this world to reunite with his wife and son, who have been waiting on the other side for him.  A relaxed smile comes across his face as he takes his last breath.  And you know he was with them again.  And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that for myself.

I still haven’t really figured out what it is that’s keeping me here, to be honest.  But I’m still here and I’m still trying.  And that’s the best I can do for now!

I hope that our sweet Moooomie was able to spend this Mother’s Day with you.  Her heart was so badly wounded when you left us, dude.  Please take good care of her over there.



Mooooomie as a little girl. I was obsessed with this photo growing up, she looked just like a doll!
Mooooomie when she was a little girl. I was obsessed with this photo growing up… she looked just like a doll!


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I lost my brother Brian, my only sibling, to suicide on October 13, 2010. I write about dealing with the loss as well as my own life-long struggle with depression and suicidal ideation.

One thought on “Letter to Brian: May 9, 2016”

  1. Big hugs to you Laura! I am sure your Mom was with you in some way yesterday, and everyday as well.

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