It has been 7 months since you died and I still find myself so alone. Surrounded by people and still so alone.
For weeks I have been so angry at you.
I gave you every opportunity that I was never given. I guided you through school, gave you the opportunity to flourish as an athlete, bought you all the best clothes, supported your short lived musical endeavors.
And for what??? So you could fuck it all off and die of a heroin overdose???
Why the fuck aren't you playing football at USC right now???
I raised you to play sports at any college in the country. I made sure you took the right classes, I paid tutors to help you with subjects you struggled with.
I gave you everything.
I gave you everything that I ever wanted for myself but was never given.
I tried to set an example for you. I worked hard. I achieved awards, became a leader in my field. I SHOWED you how to be a respectable, strong, go getter.
You decided to do drugs.
I put you through the best adolescent rehabs in the country.
You cleaned up...then went back to drugs.
You quit sports. Your grades fell to shit.
Drugs took you.
And I am mad at you for letting them take you.
I know that addiction is not a choice...but sobriety is. You could have chosen sobriety god dammit. You could have chosen a different path. You could have made me proud. I am so damn angry that you threw it all away. You were beautiful. 6'2, brown hair, blue eyes, naturally perfect teeth, charismatic, witty, smart, strong, athletic, warm-hearted.
Who would throw that all away?
People search for years for what you were born with and you threw it all away. I can't help but struggle with this.
I am so torn between the you that I knew as a child and the you that you became as a teenager on drugs. I admit, sometimes it is hard to separate the two.
It is also hard for me to believe that you are really gone. That pain has not yet hit me.
One voicemail.
That is the only way I will ever hear your voice for the rest of my life.
All of the anger...here to protect me from all of the never ending pain.
Once the pain sets in I may never come back from it.
Right. I'm strong. I will survive.
But I will never be whole again. I will never escape the ache, the empty ache that I keep hidden. Because I am in this pain alone. No one knows it like I do. It takes my breath away. This is me...gasping for air. In some ways holding on to the anger in order to avoid the excruciating pain that I have kept hidden since the day you went away.
I miss being called mama.
