16 November 2020: I was alone.

Dear Mom,

Today is the first day I find myself actually alone since you’ve been gone.
I thought I’d be handling it better.
That seems to be the case a lot lately, actually… the thinking I’d handle something better than I actually do.

I heard an ice cream truck drive by and remembered the days at Grammy’s house on Hayes Street when we’d play “My Car, Your Car” and see the ice cream truck moseying along.
Sometimes we’d have leftover pocket change from the corner store for a treat… or Grammy would slip us each a few coins to go pick something out if we’d been well behaved.

I’d usually choose the red, white, and blue popsicle… or the flavor-of-the-week ice cream shaped like a random popular cartoon character.

I told myself that if I heard the ice cream truck go by again today, I’d go outside and choose something–even if it seemed weird that I didn’t have any children with me.

But I didn’t anticipate reaction time for the current situation of how long it takes me to waddle around with a baby bump… and before I could get to the door, the familiar song had already faded off down the street.

Yeah, I teared up. Over ice cream I wasn’t even hungry for… or perhaps it was over a few memories I couldn’t get back.

I went to call you today… so many times… to update you about Aria’s first day back to school since before the pandemic… to talk about the weekend… to see how you’re doing and if you and Dad still get to sit up on the deck and watch the birds at the feeders with Ranger leaping around energetically, scaring them away… and when I couldn’t, I cried for that too.

I thought I’d be doing better today, but it seems like I keep getting choked up over the little things all connecting back to this massive crevice in my heart without you here.

So far it’s been a missed ice cream truck, a knitted baby blanket in the wrong shape… again, a gas tank, a plastic cup in the driveway, incomplete calls, and so many thoughts cascading through my mind without anywhere to land.

I’ve never missed anyone so much, Mom.

Love always,
“Pookie”