September 7th. I don't even realize what that means to me sometimes. I almost went all day without even thinking about it, but as of today it's been eight long years since my mom passed away. I was only 17 at the time. Everything then seemed so surreal. It seems like only yesterday, but so long ago at the same time. I think about her every single day. I try. I try very hard to think about her and not feel sad. But even picturing her smile brings an aching to my heart that reminds me of the deadened black spot inside me that will never heal. I love her so much, I don't even think I can express it in words. I can remember her laying in bed, and if I close my eyes, I can hear her call my name from her bedroom. She would ask me, with this puppy dog face and loving eyes, to please get her a glass of tea. She'd be in her robe, watching Stargate SG-1 or something like that on the TV. And never, not one single time, did I ever feel bothered. I would gladly lean in, give her a kiss, and get her whatever she needed. I miss that. I miss the way she smelled when I kissed her. I miss the way her fingers felt when she entwined them with mine. I miss the sound of her laugh. I think about this, and I can't help but let my memories drift to the hospital room, where I can see her laying in that plain white bed. Her face is swollen, her hair is nearly gone, and she barely even knows I'm there. She said she wasn't afraid of dying. Rather, she was only worried about whether her children would be alright. Most of the time I am. But right now I'm not. I hate this feeling. This empty feeling, knowing that no matter what, I will NEVER get to see that face again. I will NEVER get to hold her hand or bring her another glass of tea. I'll never get to wrap my arms around her while we watch Richard Dean Anderson fulfilling his duties yet again, hopping through that silly Stargate. This is the worst feeling in the world. I miss her so f***ing much. I would give my entire life, my whole world and existence, just to spend another five minutes with her. Tomorrow I will wake up and all of this feeling will be gone, but it will come back. It always comes back. So many things remind me of her. So many things bring the memories back. I don't even go to her grave anymore. It's too awkward. I'm talking to her, and she can't hear me. She's not there. She's nowhere. It's not fair. I want my mother back.