Dear Mama,

I still remember the looks on their faces, that crowd of people. They claimed they wanted to comfort us, to give us their condolences. It felt more like they all wanted to spy on our grief. A seven-year-old shouldn't have been able to make that observation. There is so much about that night that I remember, and so much I'll never understand. Why did this happen to us? How could you be gone? 

It's been over two decades. You didn't see me go on a first date, teach me how to drive a car, or help me get ready for prom. I graduated college and you weren't in the crowd. During my wedding, your face didn't greet me. Over twenty years and I still feel cheated.

I know it's not your fault. If you had a choice I know you would still be here. But you didn't. I didn't either. 

That night is seared into my brain because of a single moment. You looked so peaceful. Small feet carried me across the carpeted room, filled with mourners. Women began to wail as I reached for your hand. So cold. You were like ice beneath my fingers and then I knew. You weren't there. You never would be again.

Strong hands lifted me up and carried me as my whole being trembled with loss. Those same hands that pulled my hair, shoved me in the dirt, and gave me bunny ears in our family photos. You would have been proud of him, Mama. He comforted me when I needed him. 

"Don't cry for her now," he said, in a voice so soothing that he didn't sound like my brother at all. "She's in a better place."

But I'm still here. 

I still miss you. 

I'll always remember that night, full of pain and understanding. That was the night I said goodbye. But not to you - to my childhood. Over and gone too soon. I mourn that loss too.

I still carry you with me. Your voice has faded in my memory, but I still know the sound of your laugh. I'm a mother now, too, and I hope that my children will always remember the sound of my joy. Yours was beautiful.

I miss you, Mama. You're always with me, but it still hurts. 

I think it always will.