I want my mother....

...that's what keeps going through my head, over and over again. "I want my mother."

The only way I can think to explain how I feel is that one time, when we were little in NC, my mother, Bryan and I were out shopping at a mall when we got seperated. I remember being absolutely terrified but I took Bryan's hand (he was very little) and walked directly to a girl in a uniform at a fast food place and told her we lost our mother. Seconds later Mom was there to calm the panic. Being little we had just lost sight of each other in the crowd for what felt like hours but was really probably only 5 min.

The problem is this time my mother isn't going to find us and Bryan is the one holding my hand and telling me it will be ok. It just doesn't feel that way. I don't know how it will ever be "ok" again.

I miss my Uncle more than I could ever explain to someone. But my mother? "Miss" is too weak of a word and I can't come up with another word that begins to explain it, this feeling. I still wake up every morning praying that this was just another one of my vivid, horrible nightmares. And then I roll over in bed and see her printer's drawer on my wall or the Angel on my alter and I feel that all too familiar punch in the stomach. It doesn't get any more real than this.