Dear eema,

As I drift off to sleep at night and if I concentrate hard enough I can almost hear your voice.
But almost isn't enough.
Not nearly.

Luckily, I had the good sense to save your voice messages.


But I can't bring myself to listen. For now, having this is more of a security blanket than anything else. I know it's there for when i'm ready. When I'm emotionally ready to hear you once again say, "Annihlah, boobilah, call me!"

I've been feeling mad lately. That's a legit stage of grief, isn't it? It is but I thought I was passed it. I guess I'm doing them out of order, rebel that I am. 
Why am I mad?I'm mad that your last year was so difficult. It's an unfair, cruel trick life plays on some. I don't like it.I'm mad that it has to be like this for some others who will grow old, unless we find a cure for aging. (that isn't death)I'm mad that I can't talk to you, or see you, in the physical world, in this lifetime, ever again.I'm mad that you haven't visited me in my dreams. And not one, not one flickering light! (Yeah, I'm still on that.)

But then...  then... I take a big breath and after a few moments... the madness melts away and turns into sadness and then that sadness settles down and before I know it, I let go of all of that and I'm back to doing my things. 
My writing, my auditioning, my yogaing, my TV watching, my movie-going, my loving my husband, my dog, my friends and my life, as I do. 

This strangeness, this new world without you, I know it will get easier as time passes, it's just that not enough time has passed yet. This past month has moved at a snail's pace leaving me with too much time to think, to reflect, to wonder. 
Michael Jackson, and others, want to know if i'm okay.  Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?
I am. I will be. 
I trust that you are too, wherever you are. 
xo,annie