Day One

Learning to be funny... The title of this blog was something I came up with quickly when Wordpress posed me with the question, "Blog title?". I wanted my writing to make people laugh, but I was afraid I was going to fail, so I wanted to convey that I had my training wheels on. My mother is the one who helped me start to grow past that feeling.

What does one say on the day they lose their mother? I didn't know who to call or what to say. The outpouring of love from everyone helps immensely but in the early morning hours the light and energy felt right for me to sit with what I'm feeling. I knew to write something, anything because that's what she would have wanted. Her constant belief in me and this blog was what made me confident enough to even attempt being funny. My mother wasn't one to dole out compliments where they hadn't been earned but with this she kept pushing and telling me, "it's really good and you are robbing the world to not write in it more". Coming from her, that meant something very real to me.

When I wrote a post I would call her and she was the first to read each one. She would always call me back with her notes and some of my better posts came out of her tutelage. I am sad to not be working towards my constant goal of getting her to say, "this is the best one yet."

In a world where I seek constant approval from everyone around me, she was the one person who was enough. A word from her, and only her, stopped me from letting anything else negative in. I trusted that she loved me and it helped me to love me.

As of now my homepage tells me that she has commented on this blog more times than anyone else. I am sad that the number next to her name will no longer grow with my writing. I am afraid of the moment when someone else takes that spot. I am terrified to stop writing because when I click to publish this I won't have her to call.

It feels unreal and terrifying and heartbreaking all at once. She was my best friend. We spoke every day and I told her everything. I worry that I will never truly believe this is real, but in the moments where I am forced into seeing that it is, the permanence of it will overwhelm me.

I miss her today; it is the first of countless days that I cannot hear her voice. I will miss her everyday.

I cannot learn to be funny. I have been funny all along and I can say that now because she told me and I believe her.