Tomorrow is the 30th anniversary of my mom's death. Thirty years. Thirty years of not having her smile or laugh or love or advice or damn Greek cookies. I was 21 when she died, which means she didn't get to see me graduate from college or get my first job or have my first heartbreak. I haven't a clue how to do most things in life because she didn't get the chance to tell me how to do them, and I learned what not to do most of the time by doing it and then realizing that it was wrong.
I miss her, damnit, as I'm sure every woman who's buried a mom does. And I finally realized that the reason why I love my Guild ladies and my friends both near and far and all of you so much is that there are pieces of her in each and every one of you. Your love and support and encouragement and tolerance and understanding of me are steaight outta' the Siggy handbook.
Thank you for that.
Tuesday will be one year since I kissed Stewey goodbye as he took his last breath. 365 days of missing him so much I think my heart will break, but then I realize that it's OK for the broken pieces to come together again...even if their edges are a bit jagged and a few are missing.
I'm dreading Tuesday. I know that life will go on and I am not the only person on the planet to lose a furry companion, but I guess I need to just let the tears flow and hug his littke blanket to me and let it wash over me.
So...forgive me if I'm "absent" this week, my friends. I promise that all will be well...eventually.
Just maybe not this week.