It has been 11 months since you went home with Jesus. Those are some of hardest months I've ever had. Some days are worst than others but there has not been a day without a tear. Growing up, I had always told myself to be prepared for the day you died because you were in your late 50's when you became my mama. I thought I would be well-prepared and that I would be able to cope with your death better than some. I thought I would breeze through the grieving process and although I knew I would miss you very much, I thought I would be able to cope easily. I couldn't be more wrong. Some days, I don't want to get out of bed. Some days, it feels like I am crawling through mud to get through the day. Some days, I would breeze through the day only to break down at night. It seems to take a lot of effort to smile, to laugh and to socialize. I miss your weekly e-mails. I miss our bi-weekly visits. I miss your hugs. I miss having someone who I can truly talk to. You were my person. You were the only person who truly understood me to the core. You saw me at my worst, you saw me at my best, you saw me through everything in between. You understood my fears. You understood my struggles. It is hard to lose the only person who truly understood without me having to explain. I miss our talks about nothing and everything. I miss our cuddles. I miss our time together. I miss your advices (imagine that!). I miss knowing you are there. I would imagine that it'll take some more time to adjust to my new reality of not having you here. To the reality of being motherless again. I will never stop missing you, loving you and looking forward to the day we would be reunited. I didn't thank you enough for everything you've done for me but I hope you are able to see my heart from where you are and know how much you truly mean to me. Thank you for being my mama. Thank you for being exactly who I needed you to be. I love you.