It’s hard to find the right words, but I need to let some of this pain out. Watching you take your last breath changed me in ways I didn’t understand at first. I thought I was handling it, that time would somehow soften the edges of my grief — but lately, I’ve realized that I’ve been carrying a deep sadness that’s quietly grown heavier over the years. This November will make nine years since you passed, yet it still feels as if it were just yesterday. The memories of that day remain vivid — your face, your voice, the feeling of helplessness as I watched you slip away. Time keeps moving, but my heart hasn’t caught up. Losing you didn’t just break me in that moment; it left an emptiness that still lingers in everything I do. I didn’t notice at first how deeply it was affecting me. I kept moving through life, pretending I was fine, telling myself that pain fades with time. But lately I’ve realized I’ve been slowly sinking into depression without even realizing it. The ache of missing you has turned into a quiet sadness that never fully leaves. I wish I could talk to you again — to tell you how much I still need you, how much I miss your warmth and love. Some days, I feel angry that the world kept going without you. Other days, I just feel lost. But most of all, I feel the ache of missing you like it just happened. I know I can’t bring you back, but I’m trying to let myself feel this pain instead of hiding it. Maybe that’s how I’ll start to heal — by admitting how much losing you has changed me, and learning that grief doesn’t fade just because time passes. I love you, Mom. I miss you every single day, and even nine years later, you are still with me in every memory, every tear, and every heartbeat.