Loss for Words, Writing and Grief

The last month has been hell for me, the worst, heart-crushing experience of my life. I lost my mother, and there's no magic in the world that can bring her back, no spell to cast to undo the ravages of time and death, the destroyers of worlds. It's hard to move on, not while I'd prefer to crawl away from the world and sleep it off. I have little energy to write, and am confused and resentful that the world keeps moving without my mother.

 I am haunted by her memories, woken deep into the night by her calling my name, and stuck in the psychological torment of "what if".  I hid my writing from her. She knew I wrote, but never truly read any of my work, and I regret wholeheartedly all the missed opportunities, hugs, and communications, and there's now no way to re-do these never-moments. All of my tomorrows are not worthy enough to regain the 40 yesterdays and counting since she was here.

I'll have to find a way, even if the things I love are bitter and useless to my existence in the current time. It's what my mother would've wanted. Always and forever!