of missing you. No, the pain doesn’t go away. Not even one bit. The much cliched “Time heals” remains that.Cliched.
I wish I could tell you that you are much loved. That I see you in Harshitha everyday. I wish you could hear her sing. I wish you could hear her talk. I wish you could hear her call you “Ammamma”. I wish you could tell me that am doing a good enough job as a mother. I feel inadequate sometimes. Like something is missing. Then I remember. I don’t have you to talk to. To vent. You’d always tell me I’m right. And maybe that’s not bad. Maybe everyone needs a biased mother’s expert opinion. That her daughter rocks. No matter what. No one can ever replace you. EVER.
Love you, Amma.