Last night, my conversation with God was easy. No thunder. No trembling sky. Just one question, soft-spoken, But heavy like a thousand unsaid things.
I didn’t ask for miracles. I asked if she’d ever understand. Not you—God. Her. The woman who gave me life But clipped the wings before I learned to fly.
She won’t ask God. She won’t ask if she ever knew the pain of removing pieces of me like clutter from a shelf— because she felt like it, because she thought it wasn’t good enough for the version of me she imagined.
And maybe that’s the part that stings. Not the silence. Not the absence. But the belief that a mother could mold a child by subtraction.
I take my seat in this life With full accountability. I own the detours, The broken mirrors, The dreams I folded into corners because I thought they’d fit better there.
But what gets under my skin— What burns slow like incense in a locked room— Is the thought, not the proof, just the thought that someone who gave me breath might use that same power to choke out my becoming.
Not because she’s evil. Not because she hates me. But because she never saw the garden growing wild in my chest and thought the weeds were all there was.
And maybe I do sound crazy. But crazy is just the truth With no place to land.
So I ask God, not for vengeance, not for clarity, But for the grace to keep growing even when the soil remembers Every hand that tried to uproot.
Your birthday came and went, and I couldn’t even focus on writing you a simple post like I usually do on your birthday and the day of your anniversary.
Writing would be easier because all I have left is a pen and paper to communicate with you.
I hate that the only way I can communicate with you is through paper and pen, but I’ll settle so that I can talk to you, and maybe one day, you send me a sign that you’re reading what I’m writing to you.
There are so many things that I lay up later that night wondering how we would have celebrated you and shown you that we loved you and they were blessed to have you, even if it is just you being an angel; there are so many things that I lay up later that night wondering how would we have celebrated you and showed you that we loved.
I’m assuming you get tired of listening to us tell you how much we miss and love you and wish you were still here with us so you could be enjoying every moment and every second the way we are so that we could feel complete.
I will share a little secret with you, even though I know nothing is a secret, because you can see everything from where you are. I’ve been made to feel like your departure shouldn’t hurt me or that I shouldn’t consider you my sister-in-law because I’m no longer married to your knucklehead brother. It kills me when anyone says she wasn’t family to you and we were family because you and I would always consider ourselves sister-in-laws no matter how much time went by.
I had no clue that for me to feel your departure, you and I had to have blood running through our veins, the same blood for me to fill anything from your departure. To this day, I’m still waiting for anyone to wake me up from the nightmare of you not being here and me not being able to pick up the phone and hear your voice or send you a funny text message and wait for you to respond.
It’s a nightmare when your birthday comes around because I have no one to call to wish her a happy birthday and tell you. I’ll see you soon. Besides that, I have no one to gossip with, no one to share my feelings with, or just plain laugh with.
If I had a genie in a bottle, they could make my three wishes come true. You would be number one, and for one reason only: you would be number one, and for one reason only, you would be number one because you have left so many people with many questions and answers we will never get. And I want to see you one last time.
I know I shouldn’t question your departure, and I’m not going to, but that doesn’t mean I’m not mad as hell, and the only reason why I’m mad as hell is that as much as I heard your voice that last day that has never been enough for me.
The other reason is that your brother doesn’t know what to do with himself without you here. I no longer want to see him in pain, and I know if you were here, he wouldn’t be in as much pain as he is in right now; he wouldn’t be questioning life if you were here.
I know you did not mean to leave your family, your children, but you left them with a lot of unanswered questions, and I just fucking miss you. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. I miss you.
I want you here so I can know that I can pick up a phone and hear your voice at the end of the other line.
I love and miss you, and you will forever be my sister-in-law, no matter who, no matter who doesn’t like it.
FIVE YEARS HAVE GONE AND COME FASTER THAN I CAN WRAP MY HEAD AROUND THE PHONE CALL I RECEIVED TO LET ME KNOW THAT SHE WAS NOT A PART OF THE PHYSICAL WORLD.
SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED IN FIVE YEARS PAPER IS THE WAY I LOVE TO COMMUNICATE, BUT MY CHOICE ON HOW I WOULD COMMUNICATE WITH HER; I RATHER HAVE HER IN PERSON SO I MAY SEE HER SHOCKED FACE WHEN I UPDATE HER ON MY CRAZY LIFE.
I MISS YOU EVERY DAY.
I LOVE YOU.
AS CRAZY AS IT MAY SOUND, YOU STILL OWE A PHONE CALL & I’LL WAIT AS LONG AS I HAVE TO BECAUSE YOU ARE AN AMAZING HUMAN BEING ALL AROUND.
It’s your birthday today. I know would like to be wishing you a happy birthday
It’s been three years since you’ve been gone, and it has not gotten way easier to deal with you not being here.
Happy birthday. Thousand times over, happy birthday, I miss you like crazy one of my many wishes for you would be happiness and more love than you can handle.
I want to be selfish and have God grant me a wish of hearing your voice one last time, or I wish God could allow me to wish you a happy birthday in person.
I never saw you crumble; I never saw you come loose or lose it.
All I ever saw was a smiling face and a heart bigger than anyone could handle.
Some days are more complex than others, but the way I managed to get those harrowing days is by looking at pictures that you and I would constantly exchange every chance we would have to speak.
A simple picture does not do it; you should be here celebrating another year of life with everyone that loves you. But, instead, I had to light a candle and scream happy birthday, hoping that you would hear me.
I’m angry that you are not here.
I’m angry that I could not call you at midnight.
I’m angry that God blessed me with the chance to see my 40th, but it was super easy to rob someone more deserving than myself away from that opportunity of hitting such a milestone.
I know if you are not in the physical world with all of us. Heaven will be the place to celebrate one of God’s top angels. So all I can ask for is that you do it big.
While we are resting, hold on to your memories and love. Happy Birthday, Big Head. Miss you so much
I did not understand your value as a person and mother until I no longer had you to fight with or talk to. I just saw you as someone who always tried to define who I should be and what I should be in life instead of accepting me for who I was and loving me as your loving daughter. Now that you’re no longer here in the physical world with me, all I desire is a simple argument or just a simple I love you to make my pain just a little bit better. I wish my heart and heart could and should be on the same page, but sadly, they’re not. My head understands that pain is a part of everyone growing pain, but the heart struggles to understand why you and why pain needs to be a part of my growing pain. I feel like if I had allowed myself more time with you, we could have learned so much from each other. I feel right now that I blink and open up my eyes, and I am saying bye.
The Memoir Of Ms. Butterfly 