cynthia miraflor trillo:

I'm not sure where to begin. I can sit here on this chair for hours typing away at everything that's accumulated over the years since you've been gone. I guess I should start where my problem begins: your death.
I mean, really mom, I think it's fucking ridiculous that you were taken away the way you were. I hate it. I hate how I was the only one not at the house during your passing. I hate how when Rachel came walking onto the field to tell me, I already knew what she was going to say. I hate how the walk from the car to the door of your room was the longest walk of my life. Some say hate is a strong word. In that case, hate defines this situation. In fact, it even created a new hate that sprung up from this: my hate for God.
If this mother fucker is real, how on this God-forsaken Earth could he have done that? You were the most religious person I knew, mom. In a situation like yours, you had every right to be depressed. To be angry. To be bitter. But for some strange reason, this "God" was helping you take life one day at a time. You thrived off him. Ahhh, but what did you get in return? Nothing. As a matter of fact, if I rememeber correctly your situation got progressively worst as the years passed. I'm not sure how you stuck with him...I'm still trying to figure it out.
You know what I miss about you the most? Talking with you. Remember how we used to just lay in bed together and talk? Jesus Christ mom...I swear I would fucking give anything in this world for 5 minutes of talking time with you. You wanna know something? Since you left, I haven't found anybody that I could open up to the way I did with you. In fact because of this, I think I've started to have trust issues with people. I mean I can honestly say that I haven't TRULY opened up to anybody in 6 years. Every once in a while I'll open up a bit to somebody close, like Rachel or Chelsea. Or even Auntie and Kristen. But never never never never I will speak to somebody again the way I did with you. You know what it is? I believe it's that level of comfortability that is missing. You made me feel like anything and everything was ok. You never onced judged. Never once assumed.
I'm sure you'd be disappointed in the fact that I'm not religious at all today. I don't even really believe in God anymore. The hardest thing about that is that if I'm going to believe that, then I have to accept that fact that I may very well never see you again. When people mourn over loved one's death, I think most of them find a little comfort in the fact that they believe they will see them again in the 'afterlife.' I can't be a hypocrite and think one thing and then believe another. I have to accept it. I will never see you again. It's one of the hardest issues I've ever faced in my life. Who knows though. Maybe as I grow older my beliefs will change. Maybe as I grow older I will find somebody who I can open up to the way I did with you. Maybe as I grow older I will accept your passing for what it was. Maybe as I grow older I will find comfort in the fact that you're no longer in pain. And maybe, juuuuuust maybe, I will see you again. You will forever remain in my heart.