to my mom on her birthday

In dedication to anyone whose mother has passed on.

Dear mom,

I love you.  Those three words don’t seem nearly enough to speak what’s in my heart, but they’re all I have so they’ll have to do.

This really has been a hell of a year, if you don’t mind my saying so.  There’ve been days when I’m wrecked, and then there are days when life just keeps on rolling and I almost forget that you’re gone.  People tell me this is normal but it still feels like a betrayal of your memory, like every wisp of you has been carried away on the wind while I stand enjoying the sunshine.  I try to remember that you enjoyed the sunshine, too, and would want my face turned toward the sky.

Sometimes the weeping comes, but it’s all twisted up in too many things to sort out.  I miss holding your hand, but the memory of you fighting the Parkinson’s hurts.  There are things I want to tell you, but then I’m furious because I know even if you were still here we would be struggling to communicate.  I’m heartbroken that you aren’t with me as my kids grow up…that I can’t call for advice or cry on your shoulder…that they aren’t able to tell you about their lives.

But I’m not crying just because you’re gone; I cry because we lost you several years ago, and I miss my mom.  I miss the woman who could have played a game with my kids or listened to their stories.  I miss the woman who would have laughed at Bear’s antics and told me what it was like to raise me through the tween years.  I miss the woman who loved reading as much as I did, who enjoyed discovering new authors and getting books on her birthday.  I miss you.

We’ll be thinking about you a lot today.  It’s no mistake that our first year without you actually falls on Thanksgiving.  I’m thankful for every moment I had with you, mom, and I’m grateful that I’ll be surrounded by family as we mark what would have been your 80th birthday.

Hope you’re having an extra slice of pumpkin pie up there today.

All my love,

Laura

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