Letters to Mama
Dear Mama,
I feel like my mind is on you constantly these days. I don’t know if it is because we are quickly approaching the year mark of the beginning of the end or if its pregnancy hormones. I just don’t know. All I know is you are always not a split second from my thoughts. Perfect example, this morning I was pulling into the parking deck at work and thought how nice it would be to have a turkey sandwich at the beach this weekend. Not a deli turkey sandwich, but one with your home baked thick cut turkey breast. Well, considering you went and died before I could ask you the secret to making one of these turkeys, I lost it. Yep, out loud crying over a freaking turkey and its no where near Thanksgiving.
I hate how when I think of you, I think of the days we spent together between July 9th and August 29th - not the 29 years leading up to those days. My mind flashes to the things I don’t want it too remember at all. I don’t know why that happens either. I stumble thinking about spending the summer tucked away with you in a hospital. I’d do it all over again every year if I could have you back. Who needs suntans and beaches when they could have their Mama back? I doubt summer will ever be a carefree time of year for me again because the memories are too much. I feel as if there is a weight on my shoulders and tears ready to flow at the drop of a hat constantly.
Every time I start to cry, I repeat over and over again in my head what you told me so many times - “Don’t cry, don’t you cry.” And everytime I get pissed because there hasn’t been a magical sign from you from heaven, I think of how you said - “When I get home, I’m staying home.” I don’t want you to stay home, can’t you send me a sign that you are still out there somewhere?
Pretty sure my mind hasn’t even let itself wander to thoughts of how you haven’t seen Grace in almost a year and how you won’t meet our baby boy. Thats way heavier than turkeys and not sure my pitiful soul could handle those thoughts mixed with pregnancy hormones. Grace talks about you ALL THE TIME. I’m really not kidding. She was disappointed the other day because her wish hasn’t come true and when I asked her what her wish was, she simply stated, “to see Memo again.” Just the other day, she told me that she has secrets no one else does, well since shes 4, it was easy to get her to tell me the secret. I’m not sure if this is something that you told her or what, but she said in a loud whisper, “Memo loved me the very most.” Bless her heart. She misses you so much. She just graduated from preschool. It was the best day and would of been even better had you been sitting next to me. She swims like a fish and read her first book on her own this week. She is such a big girl and going to kindergarten in the fall.
Your grandson is due around 9/27/11. It pains me so that he won’t know what a great Memo you were or that you aren’t going to be here to help me cope with all that comes with having a newborn. Can’t you see, we need you. I hate cancer. I hate it. I’m so afraid I’m going to end up with it. We are naming the baby James Hall, Hall being for you and Daddy. If the baby was a girl, she would of been named Susan. Hall is the best I can do with a boy though.
I’m reading one of your books, I got it off of your bookshelf. Its called Roses. Its driving me crazy not knowing if you ever read it or not. Its so good and you would of loved it, but I can’t tell by looking at it if you had a chance to read it or not.
I get so jealous when other girls talk about their Moms. Its not fair I don’t have my Mom anymore. I grin and bare it, and try to change the subject.
I love you. I miss you. I need you. I hope Heaven is amazing as the Bible says it is, because I’m 100% sure that is the only place you would only be over being here with us. No where else could of gotten you away from us. I remember you telling me while in the hospital how God would come sit with you at night when you were scared and that he just pulled up a chair and that he had such a warm glow. That gives me comfort. You knew what was waiting for you and it most certainly did not involve that horrible disease that took you from us way too early in your life.
Love,
your daughter.
