Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens

It has been six years now, Mama. Five years since the day life shifted, since the moment you slipped away so suddenly, leaving behind a silence that felt impossibly vast. The pain of losing you was sharp and unbearable at first, like walking through a storm without shelter. But as the years have passed, I’ve come to see that grief isn’t something we leave behind, it’s something we learn to carry, something that changes shape as we grow.

In the beginning, I clung to the memories of you with desperate hands, afraid that letting go of the raw ache would mean letting go of you. But I’ve learned that love and loss aren’t separate, they exist together, intertwined like roots beneath the surface of everything I do. Your absence isn’t the void I once feared; it’s the space where your presence is still felt.

You were, and still are, a force of nature in my life. Your rebellious spirit, your warmth, your endless dreams, they echo in me. When I look in the mirror, I see your resilience staring back at me. I hear your voice in the quiet moments, still reminding me:
“You can’t open your umbrella for tomorrow’s rain.”
“Mistakes are blessings in disguise.”
“Even the darkest nights give birth to the brightest stars.”

In these five years, I’ve learned to live with the paradox of missing you and feeling you so near. I’ve found joy in small things again, things you would have loved. The way the morning sun filters through the trees, the sound of laughter, the scent of the sea. You taught me to find beauty in the simplest moments, and now it’s as if you’re there, reminding me to breathe it all in.

The grief has softened, Mama. It’s still there, a quiet undercurrent, but it no longer drowns me. It walks beside me instead, reminding me how deeply you loved and were loved. I no longer see the act of moving forward as leaving you behind but as taking you with me into every new chapter, every new adventure.

Your dreams live on, even as my own have grown and changed. You dreamed of fullness and vibrancy, color and life spilling into every corner. And now, when I dare to dream, I feel your courage guiding me. Your legacy isn’t just in what you left behind; it’s in how you taught us to live, to love, and to find strength even in the face of loss.

Five years later, I think of you and smile as much as I cry. The tears come, but so do the memories of your laughter, wisdom, and presence that made the world feel safe. And though I wish I could hold you, I know you’re still here, in the lessons you taught me, in the family you held so close, and in the life I’m learning to build without you.

Mama, thank you for everything. For being my anchor and my compass. For showing me how to weather life’s storms and find the light even in the darkest places. I carry you with me, always, in my heart, in my choices, and in the dreams I dare to dream. You’re gone, but never truly gone. You’re a part of me, forever.

With love,
Your child

04/12/2024