I picked up the phone to call you today...

I apologize in advance for the somewhat raw emotion....it was just one of those days.

I actually picked up the phone to call you today.  So many things happening in my world right now and all I wanted to do was call...so many things that make me remember. As I hit the 5 I realized - that number doesn't work anymore.  So my hope is that maybe they have the internet in heaven....and I hope that those of you reading this will grant me some leeway in expressing these thoughts.

Mom,

I hope that today you were smiling down on me.  I hope that today you saw the newest accomplishment in my life.  I hope that the choices that I've made in the last 2.5 years have been ones you would approve.  Mostly, I hope that today I made you proud.

Someone told me once that this gets easier as time passes.  I'd actually like to find that person and punch them in the face, but I can't honestly remember who said it.  Apparently it didn't register as truthful then either.  I'd rather think of grief as holding on to a ginormous wicker basket filled with rocks.  As time passes, more people come by and take one of those rocks out of the basket.  They carry your pain with you, they share a portion of the dark moments, and the basket gets just a little bit lighter.  You also get used to the weight, learn the best way to carry it, and develop the muscles needed to carry the pain.  Sometimes, something else comes along and dumps more rocks in the basket.  Today was one of those days.

But I'll tell you the truth - I wouldn't give up my wicker basket - I wouldn't trade everything you taught me, the love you had for me, the strength you gave me.  I'd rather feel something than nothing at all.  The greatest moments in my life have been when someone has told me that I was "just like" my mother.

I know that you saw it all - you saw my smile when I read the blog.  You heard my story about baby Emma.  You listened to the heartbreak of the day.  You held me in your arms when I finally broke down.  You were there in every moment, every breath.  You cheered me on when I started to tell your story - finally without choking back tears.

I'm here to tell you that this hasn't gotten any easier.  There have been more moments in the past 2.5 years that I've wanted my mother than ever before. I'm starting to deal with the feeling of being robbed, but on days like today it's difficult to bite back the bitterness.  I know that tomorrow I will wake up without the overwhelming heaviness in my heart but I wish more than anything it wouldn't be there in the first place. 
My newest philosophy is this one - "pain is the risk we all take for the greatest gift of love."  I know you would approve - since you liked every single one of my random quotes and thoughts.

Thank you for that gift.  I wouldn't be the person I am right now without you, both the good and the bad, and for that I will be forever grateful.

Love you,
Becky

*******
May you all continue to risk the pain of loss for the greatest gift of love.