September 12th

Dear Mom,

                    In one month, you have been gone a year. It's starting to weigh on me that you're gone. I can't just come home from a day at work and have you here to say hi, to ask how my day was, to just occupy the room with your laughter.
   I'm struggling at work and I'm honestly trying to keep it together, but it's becoming more and more difficult to do so. I got a phone call today from my manager who says we need to discuss my attendance... And I'm scared of being suspended.
   In the last month, I've been late several times and I've had spurts of tears on the floor which made me need to leave work... I don't want to be this weak person anymore. I want to be the strong girl you raised. The stubborn girl you brought into this world and it's just becoming more and more difficult to hold myself together.
   I have thought about what my life would have been like if I had just told you to get to the doctor at 6am when you came and showed me your leg. Would you still be alive? Would you have had to lose your leg? Would you have gotten really sick? These questions run through my head every single day of my life, especially when I get my paycheque and see $500 sitting there.
   I'm honestly trying to take care of everyone, and I'm forgetting to take care of myself...