I wanted to tell my mom that my daughter died. I wanted her to hold me and let me cry on her shoulder and tell me everything will be ok. I wanted her to know her granddaughter was gone to Heaven. I wanted to write my mom a letter, but I can't.
My mom is not here.
My mom is in Heaven.
I wanted to tell my daughter's father that she had died and she is buried next to him. I wanted to call him, but I can't.
My daughter's father is not here.
He is in Heaven.
I texted my daughter but she didn't answer.
I looked for her at Walmart, but she wasn't there.
I watched for her to walk over from her apartment, but she didn't come.
I drove by her apartment but it is empty.
She was not at work, not home, nor at the park.
I wept and prayed and cried, but no one answered.
My daughter is not here.
She is in Heaven.
I prayed that she is happy and surrounded by love and laughter. I prayed that she can see and visit her loved ones who passed before her. My family's Bible and my husband's family's Quran tells me the same thing, that she is in Heaven and I will see her again one day.
I need to take care of myself because it is not yet my time, nor do I feel my life is over, and people here on Earth love me and need me here with them. My older daughter and my husband told me so. My mother-in-law told me so, with tears in her eyes, she spoke to me in Albanian and hubby translated.
Sometimes I feel myself slipping into the past, to happier times, when the same sun that shines on sadness today was then shining on happy family times together. But I don't have Alzheimer's, so reality snaps me back to the present and I cry again.
In time I will learn to heal and live again, to live life without her and even be happy. But for now my heart is broken and my soul is sad and my eyes crying. I think I might be doing better and then I crumple into a pool of tears. One of my friends told me to take deep breaths and take each day one step at a time. That's the best one can do.