Empty spots in your heart
I thought for a while about writing about my Mom passing. Initially, it was too painful. Too chaotic. Everything was so jumbled in my head. It was difficult to process or put together coherent thoughts. It happened so fast. I couldn't process her being gone. Still can't really. But I feel like it might help. Maybe a relief valve of sorts, to let some of it out. I still hear her voice, calling me "Stevie." I keep thinking I'll see her later when we grab dinner with her and Dad. Then I realize I'll never see her again. Never talk to her, get to hug her. Hear the same "Steve who?" joke when I'd call on the phone. Hear her say I'm her favorite when we both know she's joking. But it's our joke. So strange now that I look back. I start to remember all those times, things seemed a little off. I didn't think it meant anything. Not that I would know it was cancer, but I can see now where it had been eating away at her. So small, day by da