Megan Jacobsen

Well the dreaded post.

It’s been 1 year
1 year of whys and hows
1 year of sadness
1 year of ‘did that really happen’
1 year of “how are you doing”
Not knowing the answer
1 year of crying, yelling, trying to forget yet not being able to wake up from the nightmare we went through.

Does it get better, people tell me it does.
It hasn’t.
I’ve questioned everything and truthfully haven’t gotten many answers.

I’ve asked really hard questions and haven’t gotten any real answers that make sense.

I still feel most days like I can’t breathe.
I have panic attacks
Then get up and keep going.

I know what my mom would say to me if she were here.
But she’s not.
And that’s not helpful.

1 year.
Now all the “firsts” are gone and that makes me sad, what will I forget. What will I not remember that I should.

It’s all gone. We’re left with sadness and darkness of the things we miss out on. The things I want her to see and she’s not here for. Don’t come at me and tell me she’s here with me. I want her here in the flesh.

How did this happen.

I caught between a pity party for myself and then guilt for all those who have lost loved ones even earlier than mom.

My mom wouldn’t want me sad, but what how am I supposed to feel. How do you go on.

1 stupid year.