Today I got the news that you’re gone. I wasn’t sure I understood it correctly. When I got the message, I was hoping with all that I am, that she would tell me it was the puppy that passed. I know it sounds cruel, but I wanted it to be the puppy. I could cope better with the puppy. But it wasn’t the puppy and I don’t know how to cope with losing you, sweet Mama Linda.
I can’t handle being so fucking far away from Melinda right now. I just want to hug her tightly and cry together. I want to talk about our trip to Sacramento, about Crypticon adventures, and that time we went to Vegas. I want to laugh with love and tears as we reminisce on the fun that we had. I want to laugh about that stupid fucking robot cat and the topsy turvy growing weed. I want to giggle about how she could hold her own with Ken’s shenanigans. I don’t have anyone here to do all of that with, though Ken tries his absolute best but he’s also struggling with another very recent loss of someone extremely near and dear to us.
Why the fuck is Seattle so far away?
I’m drowning in grief. I can’t catch my breath. It’s crushing me and I just want to be numb. Just for a little while. Just so I can rest a moment until I can regain some composure and strength. This… this is too much fucking loss in too short a time. This one hurts so fucking badly, and it’s made worse with the distance. I feel so deeply broken and raw.
You were so damned easy to love, Linda. You gave love openly and unconditionally. You were upbeat and positive, even when things were hard. You loved my kids. They grieved the close of Meier and Frank with you, when it became a Macy’s, because they knew it was your favorite place at the mall and they didn’t like to see you bummed. An adorable show of solidarity from the kids. Even Ken had a sweet, playful relationship with you. You’ve been in our lives for so long now, and even with distance you were still there.
I believe you first came into our lives when Melinda brought you to one of our infamous 4th of July BBQs. Everyone fell in love with you and we all adopted you as family. Your humor and laughs pulled us in and then you were completely stuck with us. You were involved with my kids. You loved hearing about what they’ve been up to. You were absolutely adorable with glee when the first grandchild arrived.
You provided comfort and advice when my world fell apart. You gave me encouragement and promises of a better tomorrow when I had given up hope. You shared your own struggles as a mother and the fears you had, letting me know that my feelings were valid. You assured me I could get through it – that I was stronger than I thought. You were so often the most beautiful source of light in a dumpster-fire world of darkness. You radiated hope, love, and empathy. You also balanced that with an admirable ability to take no shit.
You helped me figure out how to channel my own pain into something good. You taught me that you can have humor while also dealing with anger and pain. You showed me how to inject that into some of the most intensely negative and traumatizing experiences of my life. I’m trying desperately to do that now. I want to make you proud. But this one is so heavy right now.
And nothing helps with being so far away from Melinda right now. Nothing stops the weight of the guilt, the pain, the regret of being so far away, and the completely unreasonable anger over not winning some large lottery so I can just quit my fucking job and focus on my friend. I know it’s not rational, but I can’t help it.
You have been and continue to be loved beyond measure, sweet Mama Linda. I don’t know how we’re supposed to get through this. I guess we have no choice but to figure it out. My heart is broken and I will miss you more than you could ever imagine.
Sleep sweet, little mom. I love you dearly.
Why is Life Like That, Why am I Like That? 