Broken.

I’m just human, we all are. There really is no need to pretend to be anything other than that right? Well, I’d like to live that life. But I can’t, I feel the constant urge to be the strong one. Much like my mother. I always noticed that she took more than her fair share of pain and sorrow. I miss her, so much more than I should at this time. I miss her laugh, her smile, the flash of her eyes when I knew I was in trouble. She was a person that not old could be trusted, but she in return would trust you. But it was never expected, she just did. If there was something going down she either knew about it or was in on it. Her friends were her life line, she didn’t keep in contact as well as she wished, but she kept tabs on them. She knew how to get in contact.

Funerals, they’re one of those things I usually try to avoid. It’s nothing to do with dead, or sadness or bitterness even. It’s simply the memory of my mother’s funeral. There was so much anger and discord it left me broken. When the cold weather begins so do those memories. The hatred and bitterness of my father, the pain and loneliness of my grandmother as we were rushed from my mother’s viewing just so she couldn’t see us. What would one think that would do to a child/teen? Hatred helps no one. Here 15+ years later I’m still broken from it.