The holidays are as dead as the people I want to spend them with, But as much as I wish I could just hide under the covers and wait for them to pass, I have my mother, and we will do our best to make it through this first holiday season without Monique.
I find myself just wanting to stay in my hole, the one I dug 8 months ago, i find nights to be the worst, alone in my empty room, It's when I face everything all over again, alone with my tears and my notebook full of letters, full of words I want to say to her, the stuff I never got a chance to say, it's like a song stuck on repeat. Other times I write all the things I can't say to anyone else, and then the anger rises and I can taste the bitterness, because that notebook fails to give me the comfort of the sisterly advise I long for. We never seriously ever really talked about what we would do if one of us lost each other, It's a miracle Ive made it this far, without my other half.
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