There's a saying that Time heals all wounds, unless you pick at them. I'm not sure I believe that. I think time can...soften wounds, but they never leave. They bind themselves to you, become part of who you are. You're changed by them.
Today is the third anniversary of my mother's death. And...this is going to sound terrible, but...today, of all days, I haven't really stopped and take time to truly think of her and of what I've lost by not having her in my life any more. (It's not deliberate, at least I don't think is it.) I'm sure I sound callous, but...in all honesty, there isn't really a day that goes by that I don't miss her. A day that I don't want her back. I'd give everything I own to have her back. But..life doesn't work that way. Life simply...is. I'm lucky that I had as long with her as I did. I know a lot of people don't have that opportunity, and I'm so very grateful I did. And...even though watching her die was the hardest thing I have ever done, and even though I miss her terribly, I'm glad she didn't linger. That would have been worse.
I remember making her a promise the week before she died. I don't know how it came up, but she made me promise not to spend my life looking after the family. She knew it would fall to me, if she wasn't there. Because it had fallen to her. She wanted me to life my life. I'm still trying to keep that promise. I'm not doing very well...it's such a hard promise to keep and my family are so...needy. But I have to keep trying. Not just for my mother, but also for me.