Letter to my mom
I can’t believe it has been fifty five years
today since I last saw your weary face, those eyes that barely could move to
acknowledge our presence. Yet how I miss
you still, and even now I am wracked with feelings of guilt about wanting it
all to end. It wasn’t that I wanted you
gone, Mom. But we could not relieve your
pain, could offer you no help, could not make anything even just a little
easier for you. You were suffering so
terribly those last two weeks, yet still you waited – and waited – until your
last baby could be at your side. Only after John was able to come did you let
go.
I know you are in a
better place where you are, and I am grateful to God for relieving your
pain and taking you to His Home. Yet even
now, I still miss you after all those years. We celebrated Mothers Day today
and my memories took me back to that sad day when we lost you. I still need to talk to you sometimes,
because I know you would understand, would empathize with me, would rejoice
with me at the good things and would cry with me about the bad. Yet all I can hope for is another dream. At least I get those. They feel so real and as we go about our
dream world tasks. I feel that peace,
that connection and that comfort of working alongside of you even if we are
only attending to mundane tasks together.
Thanks for coming to visit me every now and then. Good Night Mom. See you in my dreams.
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