Wish you were here...

Dear mum, I saw you yesterday, on all souls day. Were you really there?  My day started out... not the best. I was in pain with my ribs, having woke up screaming in the middle of the night because they did that popping thing. (My Tietze Syndrome) Then I was letting some stress weigh on my chest; it's heaviness sinking deep, and spreading to my back and underarm. It really kept my mood on the lowest setting.  I was talking to Kevin as this was happening and I said to him, "I'm going to be sent to an early grave." It wasn't long after that, I got a call from Jason. Of course. We have these psychic tendencies, running on both sides of the family, and he always seems to know the moments something isn't right. Like the day before you passed, when we were trying to get you to the hospital. I opened the door, and he was standing there. "I fucking knew it!" he said, coming in to help carry you. "I knew something wasn't right."  So there it ...

Dear mum, last night I had a trippy dream. I know that's not unusual for me, as I make movies every night I sleep. But this one, it was the most random one in awhile, yet quite poignant.  So it started with me getting to meet Blue October. I feel like my love for them, from the age of 16 when I first heard "Hate Me", turned to obsession after you passed. They always got me through, as if their music was a vital piece of my survival. A coronary artery, keeping my heart in check. Maybe I tried too hard for that to be the case for you, too; theirs being the last music I would constantly play for you, jumping from one song to the other, while all you wanted to do was rest after your chemo. Keep going, mum...  Anyway, I don't know how I managed to get a chance to meet them in my dream, but it was happening. Only, ten minutes before, an announcement came and a scene played out where Justin, the lead singer, was approached by a man wanting his jacket. Justin didn't wa...

Dear mum, I'm afraid of dying. I know it's a heavy, morbid subject, but I can't seem to escape the thought lately. Aunty Betty passed away on Friday the 13th. (October) Who wrote that script?  I feel selfish, because talking about her funeral with dad, all I can think of is your funeral. It's the last one I attended, and given it was yours, I was never not going to think about it. But with the family getting smaller and smaller, it's stuck there in my throat; spilling out in the middle of the night.  "Joey," I shoved him awake. "Joey, I'm scared of dying."  "You're scared of dying?"  "Yes."  "You're not going to die. You'll be okay." He fell asleep again, and I continued to stare at his back. I thought about you, how sudden you went, and then I feared the same happening to me. To dad. To Joey. Oh God, where do we go? Will we all meet again? Will I ever feel a mother's hug again...  Mum, I ...