A Letter to my Mother

Mom, Amy, and I

Mom, Amy, and I

Dearest Mom,

It’s been almost two years now that you have been gone.  Tonight your granddaughter did something that reminded me of you. She is you mom, your best parts all wrapped up into one girl. And I thought about that and burst out crying while running some errands.  Grief is hard. It makes no sense. And, you left a huge gaping hole right through my heart. Though this family’s heart.

You were the kind of mom that was a rock while I was a child and you turned into a best friend when I became an adult. I need you mom. I need you right here. Some horrible things happened to your grandson last month mom. I can’t do it anymore. I need you to step in and be that rock. I need to grab a glass of wine with you and have you pet my head and be my best friend. It is times like these that the hole in my heart stands cold and empty and I am left feeling broken and worn out.

Things aren’t going well with dad mom. You always knew what to do. You always had the right answers. Now that we have to try and decide what to do, no answers are coming. No help is coming. We all – me, Amy, Lazlo and Ed – worry and fret and don’t know how to help him or how to proceed anymore. He is lost and we feel lost.

When I look back at what has happened in the last two years to this family, my heart breaks. It has all been too much – your death, dad’s descent into Lewy Body Dementia, Lazlo’s illness, Amy’s two miscarriages, other kids and “trusted” adults threatening and hurting your grandbabies – way too much. But mom, the worse part about it is, if you were here, it wouldn’t feel like too much. You would be the rock, the best friend we all so desperately need right now. You were the fighter. You were the advocate. You were our spiritual leader. You were our matriarch.

So, exhausted and overwhelmed I sit here and plead to you mom, with tears in my eyes. But, I know you won’t respond. Today, I am grieving you all over again, like you just left me yesterday.

But, the hard parts aren’t the only time I miss you. You took such a big part in your grandchildren’s’ lives. You were our third parent. I want you to be here with them mom. I want you to laugh at the strange little rituals that your youngest granddaughter makes up before bedtime. I want you to see how creative your grandson has become and how his heart gets broken and yet he is brave enough to pick up those pieces and love again. And, I want you to see how your ten-year-old granddaughter’s capacity for love matches no one but you. But, you aren’t here to share it with me, and I cry and grieve you all over again.

Mom, I just want you to know I miss you. I want you to know how much you are loved. I want you to know how much you meant to me. I try to carry on but, I fear that I am not very good at it anymore. Mom, today I just don’t want to do life anymore, not without you. But, I don’t have that choice, I have to do life, and it is without you. There has just been so much loss mom. Loss of life. Loss of memory. Loss of health. Loss of hope. Loss of trust. Loss of faith. Loss of sleep. We fall to pieces. Today we cry and grieve you all over again.


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