How do I begin to write something that weighs so heavy on my heart, knowing you won’t ever get the chance to read it? I guess…I’ll do it to help me. To help someone else.
Mom, I’ve been wondering a lot lately, were you scared? When you became a mom? What a silly question, I know.
I’m so sorry I never asked more about your feelings when you were still here. I could have asked so many things before you were gone. But I didn’t, and now I’m left wondering the impact motherhood had on you.
Was I breastfed? Bottle? Was I an easy baby, or a crier? Dad can’t remember the details, and to be honest mom, it hurts.
What was your favorite memory of us when I was younger? Was I a good sleeper, did I have to be rocked? Gosh, it’s hard to believe I won’t ever be able to ask you for advice on the greatest journey of my life.
You’ve missed a lot since you’ve been gone. Some big events, and small ones. My wedding day, the day we had to bury my big brother. Me moving away.
Lots of growth in between it all. But the one that will continue to be a blow to my heart for the rest of my life…it will always be me, becoming a mom. You weren’t supposed to miss this.
The due date that dropped me to my knees. How is it that the worst day of my life, the day you left this world…was now going to be the best day of my life? The day my first born was due to enter this world. She came a couple days before that date, but it doesn’t make a difference in this regard because you missed that, too.
I cried a lot for you, Mom, in those first few months of motherhood. I could have sworn that all the questions and worries I had could have all been answered and eased had you just been a call away. But instead I prayed. I prayed so much, just hoping you could hear.
A question I always wonder is what my daughter would have called you. Would it have just been Grandma? Nan? Nana? Something we came up with together? What a heart wrenching thought it is to think we will never know.
I often look at other moms, when they’re out and about, with a woman who appears to be their Mom. I wonder if they even know how lucky they are.
What I wouldn’t give to have a day out with you and our precious girl. A girls’ day for the books. Something that many probably don’t think twice about. But me? Always.
The simplicity of lunch with you and my daughter is something that puts a pain in my heart the size of Texas, knowing it won’t ever happen.
I know you didn’t want to leave, Mom. And if there was ever a way you could read this, I wouldn’t want you to feel bad or like it was somehow your fault. I know these are the hard chapters that life makes us read.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, life isn’t always the way we pictured in our heads. Our hearts will be broken more than we’d like. And we will go through things that will change us right down to the core.
But what will keep us going and growing, is being grateful for it all.
I’m grateful to have had you as my Mom for as long as I did. You were the best, and I want you to know that. And even though I’m not grateful for the loss of you, I’m grateful for the growth it forced me to embrace: the love that it has taught me to show, and the strength that it has embedded me with so I can raise my children the best way I can.
I’m a motherless daughter, raising a daughter of my own, as many of you are, too. The heartache may never go away, but with great loss comes great love to be given. Give it to those babies, to your husbands, to your friends. Give them all your love, in memory of your sweet Mama.