Yesterday I lost my mother due to complications from Covid-19. I. Am. Broken.

She was the best person I knew. Of course she had faults, family secrets hidden behind her dark purple almost black lipstick. But she was still my mother and I should have treated her as such.

I have a jazillion stories I want to share, but I can’t see through my tears right now. I can’t unfeel this heartbreak, I can’t go back in time.

I was proud of you and honored you were my mother even though I may have never showed it. Even when I may have seemed pissed to be burdened with your decisions.

You raised six kids basically on your own, worked multiple jobs, all while trying to make sure we had a wonderfully rich cultural childhood. I still remember the Cambodian protest you took me to when I was ten.

Mom. I hope you are proud of me even though I have not yet reached my goal (living in a penthouse high above the city), even though it may seem as I could never settle down in life and even though I do not follow you in Christ.

I believe in Heaven and I’m comforted you are there. I hope that you are dancing to your hearts content without any of the pains the strokes have caused you. I pray you are looking down on all your children and their SO’s, grandchildren and spouse (my dad, but that’s what she called him lol). Watching how are hearts ache from the giant hole that was created when you left us.

You were right. I’d be sorry when you were gone. I love you mom 💜. Please forgive me💔.