Dear Mom,
It has been three years since you left me. Three years since I last talked with you. Three years. So much has happened in these three years. So many things.
- Your grandson was born. He’s incredible Mom. He’s funny and sweet. He was born without you. He had his first bath without you. He crawled, he walked and he is finding his words. He had 2 surgeries and one very scary time in the hospital with an illness. I needed you. He needed you. You weren’t there.
- I quit my job. The one that I loved. I am home now, with my kids who need me more. You would be so proud of me. You always told me that I would be able to make it work and I do. I work a lot of a little jobs but we make it and my kids are happy. I figured it out now, even though there were so many times I grabbed the phone to call you, to discuss, to talk. You didn’t answer.
- I’ve run hundreds of miles. I’ve flown thousands. I have taken lots of classes and read lots of books. I would have loved to share my journey with you.
- I’ve written more books, and have a story that is actually published. You didn’t get to read it.
- I’ve learned to cook so many things that you would have loved to eat. My small one loves to cook too. You never got to try them.
- I’ve moved. I live in a home that I love, in a place that I love and that you would have too. You’ve never been in my home and I have no memories of you here.
- My Honey Cuffs are helping kids. You helped me make the first one, but you didn’t get to see the patent in my hands. You didn’t get to hear all the people they have helped. You missed this.
- Art has new job too. He’s good at it. I am proud of him. We would have even more in common and something to talk about. We can’t share this.
- Your granddaughter can read now. She dances lovely. She loves to sing and is so sweet mom. She would make you laugh. She hasn’t got to hear your laughter in three whole years.
I haven’t got to hear your laughter in three whole years. People say it gets easier. People lie. I have learned to adapt my life. It’s just my life now, with a piece missing. A mostly complete puzzle. I notice the piece is missing. I imagine what is there and I put that forward, a whole puzzle to the world. That piece is still missing. I always miss you. Some day’s it is easier than others. But there are times, Mom, times when I want to scream. Times that I feel are just so hard that my soul seeps right out through my eyes. Times when my heart misses you so much that it balls up in my chest and I realize in those times that life just isn’t fair.
Sometimes the hard times come when I am least expecting them. Sometimes it’s when I am cleaning my house. When I am dusting off your ashes. Keeping them clean so that somehow in my heart I can feel like you are watching over me, over my kids, but sometimes it just feels too hard. There shouldn’t be dust on you. You should be here. I am thankful I have that memorial in my home. My most treasured place includes you, my mom. But then I miss you, we circle, and I just feel like crying again.
It happens every time my sidekick makes a wish. Pennies, stars, eyelashes, and candles. Every one is a wish for Mimi to come back. Every single one ends in tears. How can I teach about dreams and hopes when I always have to say, “try again”. How can I say it’s a beautiful world when she remembers everything. She remembers you and she misses you. We all miss you.
It happens when I smell something that reminds me of you. It happens when I read a good book that I want to share with you. It happens with I get worked up and angry over something someone said and I know you would have a reasonable suggestion for interpretation that isn’t evil. It happens when I drive, when I used to call you. It happens on the boat. It happens when I sing, dance, or play your guitar. It happens when my kids do something awesome that I know you would have liked. It happens today, on your birthday, on mother’s day, on my birthday, and the whole Christmas season. It happens all the time. I miss talking to you. I wish I could talk about you more. People skip the subject, they don’t want to see me cry. They don’t want me to be sad, but the reality is, I like to know others remember you too. I need to talk about you. Three years gone. Three. Where have you been? I still need my mom. You have missed so much and we miss you too.
I love you Mom.
Love,
Me
