I’ve been struggling to write this post the whole day. It’s still fresh even though it’s been 2 years today. It still seems like yesterday that you held a 1 year old Ethan and smelled his neck. (Yes, I saw you and my heart melted). It seems like yesterday that you asked Matthew what he wanted for his birthday that was only a few days away. It seems like yesterday as I watched Mark carry you out of the house because you were too weak to walk. It seems like yesterday that we had to say goodbye, the hardest words we all ever had to say.

How do I put into words how much you’re missed? That Dad is struggling to cope with your death and still  has a cupboard filled with your clothing.

How do I put into words how the children still ask about you? And we struggle to find the right words to explain to them that you’re not coming back.

How do I put into words how I feel that you never met Harper? Or that you weren’t there to share my pregnancy with her as you did with the boys. You would have loved her, I’m sure. A little girl to dote on.

How do I put into words how our lives have changed? Nicole and I especially. Something changed in us the day you died and we seem to be better for it, I think.

How do I put into words what I imagine your last moments were like? My heart breaks every time I think about it. You were alone, with probably only a nurse or 2 around. One day, I’ll imagine that the doctors and nurses tried everything they could to revive you. Another day, I’ll think the worst and that they didn’t try hard enough. I think about this often and something inside of me dies a little every time.

How do I put into words how guilty we all feel for not pushing you harder to go to the hospital when we realised how ill you were? Yes, you complained and you pushed back when we did say something, but we should have just dumped you in the car and taken you. You might still be here. Or not.

How do I put into words how often I think about you? I think about what you would have said about your garden drying up in this Cape Town drought. I think about how you would’ve let Ethan climb all over you even though your neck was paining. I think about how you would’ve sat with Harper in your arms the entire time she was in your company, no matter how many times I would’ve complained that you’re spoiling her.

We think and talk about you often. You are always on our minds and we miss you, Mommy.