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.