Today is 8 months since my mother died. She died on a Wednesday too. Today is Wednesday. I try to think back on that day and I can't remember much. Just remember being in a daze-like state, on automatic mode. I don't remember how I got home after I left the hospital. If I ate anything. Not even if I picked my son from school or not.
So much has happened since then. So many changes still happening in our family. My sister is moving, a bit far from what I am used to. My dad is thinking of moving on his own - he's been with me since she passed. It looks like I finally will get the promotion I have been waiting for years.
I like to think that she is up there ... smiling at how we are doing and watching over us. I like to think that she is the reason why all the pieces are falling into place for my sister. I like to think that she is somehow still keeping my dad company. I like to think that she is watching over the kids every second of every day. Their special guardian angel.
To me ... I like to think that somehow she is still in Puerto Rico, spending time with her sister and my cousins and my cousins's kids ... happy sorrounded by people that love her. A friend not long ago said she dreamt about her ... that she appeared to her in a dream and told her to tell my dad, to not worry about her ... that she found Nala (our dog) and that they were together and happy.
I miss her. A lot. I miss having my mom. Here. With me.