It’s been almost a year since you’ve left us, but it feels like it was just yesterday. I’ll never forget holding your cold hand as the plug was pulled. I’ll never forget the bright green nail polish I painted your fingernails with as I sang you our favorite songs. I’ll never forget that call I got at 9pm on Mother’s Day saying you passed. The grief never gets easier, I just get better with coping. Not a day goes by where I search for your warmth.

Today was the day I found the strength to pull your belongings out of the trunk of my car that I have not washed since then. There is not a set day you can plan to tackle something so fragile. It took every ounce of strength you grab your belongings and to see that bottle of green nail polish.

As I go through her belongings sorting them out and I find journals, her journals. My mother was diagnosed with manic depressive bipolar, yes which is a mouthful. She also had a lot of other health problems. Today was the day I entered a piece of her mind. As I read into the journal her cursive handwriting was slowly getting harder to read after each page due to her eyesight getting worse. The lines became diagonal and became blended with each page I turned. From her drawings to her punny jokes it was all there. My mother one day either could be on top of the world or wanting to sink below it. She had so much unresolved trauma from her childhood. I could hear her voice and feel what she felt. The sadness and darkness she had was heartbreaking. The worst part is she didn’t want to help herself. She was comfortable in her own misery.

I have so many unanswered questions. My emotions are scattered. I never could fully know you because you didn’t know yourself.