The Ramblings of a Broken Heart

It's been almost a year. So hard to believe. It's been like a dream, a terrible nightmare, my greatest heartbreak come true. Looking back, I really am not sure how I have gotten through it sane, alive, clean.
I haven't been able to think about it, let alone talk about it, until now. I'm feeling like I may be able to get it out, a little bit at a time.
I have come away from it all with a huge amount of resentments, sadness, pain, disappointment and, surprisingly, enlightenment and a few blessings.
The pain is still very real. There are times when it hurts so much I think my heart will burst in my chest, a real physical pain. I don't feel as totally and completely alone as I once did, but I am still hurt and will never forget the actions of some who were once very important in my life. I'm still very hurt and confused about that whole "thing", and not sure really what to do with it all. I want to share my feelings, yet I know deep down that it wouldn't matter, except to me and my well-being. I have been battling this in my mind for a few years now. The only person who ever really understood the whole situation, who understood and listened to the real facts, is gone.
And what will it really matter, in the end, if I do share it all? If it would cause more hurt to others, why do it? Maybe because of the unfairness of it all. Maybe so others would maybe not have to go through what our family did. Maybe because life is so very short.... I could be gone tomorrow, and what have I left behind for MY daughters?? I want them, and others who matter to me, to know what it was like for me, what I've learned, how I feel. It might make a difference to someone.
If I've learned anything from her, the patient understanding and unconditional love she had for others is what I want to pass on, rather than the hatred and judgments that have been directed towards me.
I could go on just existing, like I have been since May of 2004, when I found out my time with my Mom was limited. Or I can pick myself up, dust myself off, and be the resilient woman I've always been, like her. There's always hope for tomorrow.
Life is still beautiful, despite the ugliness of some of the people around me.
I see it in Collin's eyes. My mother is in there, looking back at me with the love she always gave.
I think I'm almost ready to go talk to her, to see her where she really is. I'm really afraid, because that will make it absolute and real, and I don't want it to be. I have to face the truth. This is different than it was with Grampa and Uncle Ken. She doesn't belong there. I am afraid to start the process, because I may not be able to get back to reality. Thinking of sitting there at the headstone, talking to her, is too overwhelming. As much as I know it will help me heal, I still am afraid of going away and never coming back if I face the truth. The thoughts of it make me sad, and I start to cry, which lasts for days, weeks, months at a time. I don't know if I'll ever be ready.