dear mom

Mama Kat's writer's prompt for today was to write a letter to someone I miss greatly. How could I NOT pick my mom?



Dear Mom,



I know, I know,I'm a bad daughter-- I didn't do a post about your birthday on the 21st. I wanted to, but it seemed easier to talk about funny things. You always taught me that laughter was the best medicine, and believe me-- I've needed to overdose myself on it more than a few times since you got to move on to bigger, better things and left us all down here :) . You know it's been almost 2 years and I'm still waiting for you to come over and knock on my door, or call me on the phone ,or run into me at the grocery store. I don't think that feeling is ever going to go away.

Wow! You would have been 66! You never looked that old, and you certainly never acted it! You were very mature in your attitude, of course, but I don't know of many women your age who rode motorcycles up the sides of mountains or captained their own boat clear around North America. You were always so modest about your many adventures, but seriously---if the Discovery channel knew about you, you would have had your own show by now!



The boys and I are getting along pretty well. I can't say it's as much fun without you around though. Ethan especially misses you. He remembers so much. Even Liam, who's 4 now, tells me about you giving him "horsey rides" around your living room. We look at your pictures a lot and I try not to cry because they don't like it when I cry. They remind me that you're in heaven looking over us and helping us in ways you couldn't while you were here. That thought always brings a little smile to my face.



Now I know you wouldn't want me apologizing, but I feel such a deep need to tell you how very sorry I am that my marriage didn't work. You were always so pleased with the choices I'd made in life and I feel like I've let you down somehow. I tried Mom-- I really, really did. I followed all the advice you gave me about loving my man for who he was and not just what he could give me, to hold his hand in public, never say anything degrading about him to my friends, and never, ever part ways angry. It all just came down to a crazy, worst-case scenario. I bet you have some answers concerning the whole situation that you'd like to give me if you could. Sometimes, when it's quiet, I just close my eyes and press my hand firm against my heart and try to hear you speaking to me. I can make out the echo of your voice---but you're mostly laughing and joking with me, not giving me any heavenly wisdom. Often I hear you singing "Que Sera, Sera" to me like you did when I was little. And it's true too, isn't it: "whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see...".



I am so thankful you were the incredible single mother that you were. I remember you crying a lot about dad dying, telling us how you wished you didn't have to work so much, and that the life we were living wasn't the one you'd envisioned for us. We knew Mom. We all knew. We could see what you gave up out of love for us--sleep, new clothes or shoes for yourself, time with friends, even the chance to re-marry until 19 years later because no one was "quite right" for your children. I try each day to do something the way you would have done it. It's impossible for me to measure up to you in every way (I like my new shoes too much :) ), but I'm giving it, how did you use to say it?---the "old college try".



Well I'm sure you have better things to do than sit around and read sappy letters from me all day! Maybe you get to eat buffet food for every meal like you wanted?! I just had to let you know that you are still remembered here---every day---and I love you so, so much. Happy late Birthday.



And save a chair for me, alright? I'll get there soon enough!



~Your Jennifer


I loved this picture of you and Ethan. I remember very distinctively how you went on to wear that tin foil crown for the next hour just because he was so happy to see you have it on.