Death and Taxes

My momma is gone. She's just gone! If you've been there, you know how I feel, but if you haven't, this is truly weird. It's like somebody took their finger and smudged my perception of reality. I knew she was dying, but the difference between having a momma who is dying and a momma who is dead is huge.

My momma suffered from mental illness (paranoid schizophrenia), alcoholism and a tobacco addiction. In the end, the last two were her downfall. Still, with all these vices and all those struggles, she managed to be an excellent mother. Yes, on numerous occasions she worked my last nerve, but nobody ever came close to making me feel as loved and accepted as that woman did.

She raised me, got me hooked on fried chicken, dressed me in pretty clothes, talked to me for hours and hours (in person and over the phone), she took care of me when I was sick, she told me all of her crazy dreams and fantasies, she taught me how to paint my nails, she dragged me kicking and screaming to church, she kept me in check when I thought I was all that, she ignored me when I was being a brat, she spoiled me rotten. I was her baby girl and I, guess, I am going to have to figure out how I can still be her baby girl even though she is not here anymore.

I am okay, but deep down in the very center of me, I am lost without my momma. I guess I always will be.