Thursday, November 15, 2012

Dear Mom:

            It's been a few years now since you had to go. I still miss you and I still wish that somehow you could come back from where it is that you went. I know this is not possible. I have resolved myself to this life without you in it, but I hold to an unspoken promise that someday we will meet again. It seems so long already that I cannot imagine what this world will be like for me with you gone for 10 or 20 years and more. I won’t forget you no matter how much times passes.
            I'm writing this to you for your birthday. I know you would have been 70 years old today. I am sure you don't mind not aging. I just wanted to keep you up to date on how things have been going down here without you. I know you are unable to write me back, but I pray somehow this finds you well and that you get the chance to read it. I don't doubt that you will have a good day regardless of not being here. I'm still trying to figure out how all this heaven stuff works, but I hope it is a nice place for you and I wish for you even more happiness and peace.
            I have no idea how much information filters from here to where you are. I'm not sure what you know or even if you care anymore. I'm led to believe you've been brought up to speed so I won’t waste my time or yours with the sordid details. I will say that Dad is trying his very best to carry on in your absence. I know that he holds on to the idea that you will reunite one day soon, and carry on into eternity together. He isn't good, but he's okay and he misses you so very much.
            The day you died was the first time I had to know grief without you. From the time I was a little kid, we always seemed to lean on each other. The hardest part of all this for me has been losing your friendship. You know I think you were an awesome Mother, but I miss our camaraderie the most. All the videos and pictures that we have of you have helped us all remember you better, but sometimes I just need to feel your touch and hear your laughter in person rather than on TV.  I often look for you when driving out in the country. I know you aren't out there somewhere, waiting to wave, but it makes me feel better to think there is at least a chance, no matter how small it is.  

            I want you to know that things are not the same with you gone. As hard as I try, I cannot seem to shake the reality that this life is less without you in it. I would never have believed this would still hurt so damn much. Although Dad and I have gotten much closer since you passed, this has done little to fill the void no longer being near to you has brought. Sometimes though, in the still of the night or on this highway often forgotten by others, I catch a glimpse of you inside my mind and I make believe it might be you calling out to me from the place you are now. I imagine the wind is you singing and the sunshine on my face is a kiss from you just for me. If you can see me, then you know I try my best to keep your memory alive. It seems others have lost this sense, but I am sure you know that I have not. There are so many things I want to ask you.
            Can you smell the flowers I buy for you each week? Do you know how much I miss you? Is God pissed off at all the bad press He gets or does He laugh out loud over it? Have you been past heaven or are you stuck in the place? Is there peace you've found? Most of all, I'd like to know if there is a way for you to get back to me, to somehow reach through this madness and send me a sign? I suppose I am still not convinced all is safe and sound and it might help me if you could confirm that I am on the right track.Is it okay for me to ask you to find a tiny drop of rain and make it linger long enough on my fingertip to reflect your face? Why don't I see you in my dreams?
            Don't get wrong Mom, I'm not having trouble holding on, or holding out hope. You know how questioning I can be so I'm sure you comprehend that I'm having difficulty understanding why I should have to do either. What purpose is there in all this? Can you manage to let me in on the secret, even in a wee small way? I am unsure of the connection I often still feel; is it all in my head or is it really you at the other end? I know, for some unfair reason, that you can't confirm anything for me, but I must admit I feel relief in just asking. I wonder if there is anything you want to know, but something tells me you don't spend your time thinking about such meagre things.
            Every day you are not here reminds me how important it is to appreciate what I do have. Your death has made me love living more. I am sorry I wasted so much time while you were alive worrying about this and that. I wish I had been more restrained when I was younger, but I know you recognized this was mostly out of my control. I don't think people really get missing something so deeply that it changes you. Do you understand why humans would rather forget than hurt?

             Do you remember that ceramic baseball glove you bought for the cemetery in Stratford? After all these years, it has started to fade and crack from the sun. The other day, I was walking through a second hand store when I came across an almost new, identical twin, just sitting there, calling out to me. I remember when you gave the original and just how much that has always meant. You were such a good friend and a wonderful Mom. I realize how silly it sounds, but finding that doppelganger meant the world to me.  It was almost as if you placed it in that very spot, a secret gift. I took it up to Avondale, switched the old for the new, and then placed your expression of love amongst the treasures I keep around me in my home. By the way, like you asked, I found your autoharp pick and put it in a safe place.
            There is not much left for me to say other than I love you and can't wait to meet you again. Please say hello to Doug for me, I hope he has liked the gardens. I am sure his mother sends her regards. Tell him she is well, if you don’t mind.  It is mere logic to presume that Dad will see you sooner than later, so I won’t speak for him. I am sure somehow you know. I remember your birthday but I doubt, in the long run, that matters outside of time and space. I am sure that we all will see you soon, whether we fight our own passing on or not. Sometimes I think I can still hear you singing; I hope you got the lead. I will look for you in the light.

Happy Birthday!!!