Now that I have your self-portrait hanging up Kaitlyn, I get to simply turn my head to the right when I’m sitting in the den, look into my living room and there you are. A beautiful, exquisite drawing of you where I can see every nuance of your facial features. You look so melancholy in this picture giving me a glimpse into the darkness that you had to live with deep within you. I simply took this as art. I didn’t know it portrayed the life you really lived. The same thing applies to your poetry, what little of it that you ever showed me, mostly melancholy full of metaphors that I can so easily translate now that you are gone. I feel like a horrible mother that I never noticed anything wrong, but you told me I was a wonderful mother. In order to save my sanity, I must believe the last words that were left to me by you before you slipped away into the night.
As all these months slip by and I find myself suffering more and more with each passing day, I think to myself that I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I should pull myself up by my bootstraps, find something in my life that will make me feel better. I feel tired of being sad, of feeling sorry for myself. But then I know that though I do feel sorry for myself, it’s not out of selfishness. I feel sorry for myself because I feel so badly about the beautiful life that decided to leave this world on 4-11-13. I feel sorry that you cannot fulfill in your life all the happiness that I so wished for you. I wanted it ALL for you. I knew you could go far and have almost anything you could ever want, but the reason I wanted it, is because I thought you wanted it and your happiness was all I cared for concerning you. I didn’t care whether you became a doctor or whatever you wanted, as long as it was what YOU wanted to do.
As I came in from playing with our dog this afternoon, I looked once more across the road, and the field into the corner of the woods, and there you still stood, in a beautiful black dress, all dressed up to go to the opera or some such event, your pretty blonde hair grown back long again, and that’s all I have of you. You’re there almost every day. I wonder if you might come to me to tell me how to live without you; without the person that I thought the sun rose and set in, the one I thought was so happy. Oh Kaitlyn, I would have still loved you had I known you were sad. I would have loved you no matter what. I still do. I just don’t know how to live like this.