A Birthday Letter

Normally I wouldn't post something quite so personal here on the blog for all to see. But I know that there are several people who read here who have suffered loss and are grieving for someone they love and miss. I wrote this letter to my Mom on her birthday, and if reading it helps you at all for some reason, I'm glad. Over a year has passed for us, and life tries to say "get over it.... move on." It's hard sometimes to find joy, even knowing that we can be reunited in heaven.

Your 54th birthday
Dear Mom,

Today is a day I'd much rather remember than January 5th, although it's hard to focus on the 24 wonderful years I had with you rather than the one year so far without. Everything I can think to say sounds trite, rote, and cliched- like 'not a day goes by that I don't miss you." While it's still true, the words just don't say all that they should... like how easy it is to think of you, causing happy memories to surface until the reminder that we can't make any more memories together strikes like salt in a would. The lack of you in my life is a wound.

I think of you when I use your sewing machine in my craft room. I think of you when I see your dishes in my kitchen. There isn't a single room in my house where your face doesn't smile at me from a picture, a gift you've given us, or something you made. Worst of all, I think of you every time Kenna smiles and you aren't here for it. Every day there's more I want to tell you, more I need to ask you, more advice and wisdom I need, knowing you've been through these same struggles. More encouragement I need from my Mom, my friend. My head still spins at how quickly you left, and my heart still aches to know that it will be a lifetime before I see you again. 'I miss you' just doesn't cover it- you've left a hole in me that nothing in my physical life can fill.

I still miss you, I still love you.

Mom and me at her 50th birthday party, February 2005