Yesterday, I woke up feeling kind of weary. It was the typical not enough sleep during the week, too much to drink the night before, and son on.

Today, I woke up sick. A nose that went between to stuffy to running. Eyes that burned with water and a head that ached or throbbed. I spent 95% of the day in bed. Lingering between fully awake and fully asleep.

I feel something brewing deep inside. It could be the cold medicine that makes me question did I dream this or did this happen…was the dream I had some sort of fore shadowing…do the words I hear or read mean anything more than what they seem.

As strange as it may sound, my soul feels like it is coming awake. Stretching its limbs from a long a long slumber. The desire to create is tingling up my spine. Characters and scenery are forming dreamlike sequences in my head. Creativity that I felt was long gone when my mom quietly slipped away from our world, my world, while in the arms of the man she loved is springing slowly into my brain.

I’ve put off writing for so long because I didn’t want to deal that possible darkness I might have to go through and I put off reading anything other than NHL stats, history, and the guidebook because it didn’t distract me like before.

This weekend, I picked up a book and started reading again.

It sparked the creativity that I have been pushing away. It has made me want to investigate the true feelings I have with my mom’s death. I have accepted and I’m not in denial that she’s gone, but what I have not dealt with is the true rage and hate I have inside of me. I don’t blame her or the doctors or anyone else. I hate myself more than anything for not being more vigilant with her, her doctors, and I have this rage inside of me for not doing things that were out of my control. I know her death was not my fault and I hate, I mean hate, that I didn’t do more. She had been slowly dying for months and I did nothing because I didn’t know she had been dying for months. I didn’t see the signs, I didn’t see the true pain, I wasn’t listening and she wasn’t listening. Mama, I’m so sorry I wasn’t truly listening. I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I’ve punished myself since December. Abusing my body emotionally, physically, & mentally, but now, tonight, I want to forgive myself. I want you to forgive me. Writing was the only thing I cared about growing up. I let someone take that away from me and vowed not to let anyone else do that to me again, but I took it away from myself as a punishment because I felt I had let you down. Right now as the rain falls outside, I see you sitting across from me with a smile on your face. I hear you in my head saying good night baby. I feel you around and me and I want to say I love you. I’ve got to let go of the anger, the hate, and the rage now. I’ve got to let go it but I’m not letting go of you or your memories. I’m keeping those in my heart forever but everything else will be washed away. It’s time. I’m letting go…