I have always had a relationship with finality.

I remember being a child and watching one of my favorite show’s series finale. It felt heavy. Everything was tied up with a bow, but I didn’t feel happy. I knew that I would never see another new episode. I knew that these people weren’t real, but their lives and their stories felt real. It was as if they were growing alongside me and their failures and triumphs were my own.

The show ended and the actors came out on stage (back then it was filmed in front of a live audience). They were all holding hands and they took several bows. Some of them were crying. They were hugging and talking to each other. Obviously, we couldn’t hear what they were saying as we watched them on our bulky tvs. But, I imagined they were saying what we would say in real life, saying what should have been said the whole time and not just at “goodbye”.

It’s somewhat like an obituary. We say all of the most meaningful and heartfelt things after someone has passed. We feel it so deeply because we know we’ll never be able to say those words to them. We hold out hope that somehow they can hear us and that they knew it all along, even if left unsaid while living.

I’m not leaving anything unsaid.

Here is my obituary to myself before I became a mother. She has died, yes, but part of her still lives and I want her to know how much I love her and appreciate her sacrifice.