“If I could talk with you one more time, I would tell you…”
September 21, 2024
Dear Mom,
It’s one year today since we said, “goodbye for now,” and yet not a day goes by that I wish I could talk with you and Dad in person instead of in my mind. Actually, sometimes I do talk to you out loud and I simply say, “Oh Mom!” And I know you would know those simple words mean I miss you and I miss taking care of you.
This year has been filled with so many memories that have rushed back, often uninvited, and yet mostly comforting. I find myself recalling our little rituals – being reminded by you not to “make too much” at breakfast, and when I served it to you, you would say, “It’s too much!” I remember starting “our work day” after breakfast and you would do your word search puzzles like it was your job, and I would do my online teaching on the chair next to you. Then we would take breaks throughout the day and hold up our hands to each other in heart and “I love you” gestures. I miss hearing your voice, your giggles, and requests for another word search book because you finished the one I just gave you an hour earlier.
I would tell you that there are moments when I still reach for my phone to call you, or look at the clock at 5 pm and think I need to get your dinner ready, or I wake up in the morning and think I need to check on you. And it’s in those times that reality hits.
If I could talk with you again, I would tell you things like –I miss watching the Phillies with you, who by the way, will hopefully clinch the division. I would tell you that JT is still my favorite and we still call Trea Turner, ‘Rick’ because he reminds us of young Rick.
Some days the grief feels overwhelming, and a memory brings on tears and then that same memory on another day makes me smile. I would tell you that I rarely watch Wheel of Fortune or The Game Show Network because it is not as enjoyable without you. And I haven’t had soft serve vanilla ice cream with “just a little green” (lime water ice) once this year. That’s not as much fun without you either.
If I could talk to you one more time, I would tell you that I’ve been sorting through many pictures and they bring back such fond memories of you and Dad – the pool parties at your home and the many travels we took whether road trips to SC, cruises to Greece, or flights to France and Italy. I would tell you that the first few weeks after you went to heaven, I dreamed of you and Dad almost every night. And sometimes you both helped me with whatever decisions I was making in my dreams. Perhaps that was because there were big decisions to make in the weeks that followed our lives without both you and Dad. Ron, Rick, and I had big decisions to make as we did all the things people need to do when their loved ones pass. You’d be happy to know that we played very nicely together throughout it all.
If I could talk with you one more time, I would share how some days are weepier than others. Like the other day when my doctor prescribed the exact medicine for me as he did for you and Dad. I clearly remember giving it to you each day, but now that I need to take it myself, I wish I could talk to you about it. If I could talk with you one more time, I would tell you how I get weepy when I drive by Libby Lane which is now owned by another.
If I could talk with you one more time, I would tell you that I frequently visit you and Dad at the National Cemetery. We have this thing where we leave a penny on top of your tombstone and then whoever visits turns the penny to let the next visitor know someone was there. If I could talk with you one more time, however, I would not be able to explain the logic of how that works. Does heads me someone was there? Does tails me someone was there? Could the penny have been turned many times? I don’t know, but it’s something we do.
If I could talk with you one more time, I would share that sometimes I struggle thinking how life goes on, and that it is dishonoring to you, in some way, that it does. But I know you would say that’s how it is supposed to be and it is okay that we go on and live our lives to the fullest. Even so, life has changed so much without you.
Birthdays and holidays felt different this year, but you and Dad are ALWAYS remembered and talked about at all of our gatherings. Much of your furniture and paintings now reside in all of our homes, and the Vasso girls wear different pieces of your jewelry. And we often find ourselves quoting what you would say in various situations in which we find ourselves. This past year has been filled with some milestones. Rick and Kathy finally moved to Michigan. Riley started college this Fall, Liam started Kindergarten, and I became semi-retired as of July.
If I could talk to you one more time, I would tell you how much Ron looks more and more like Dad, and his sociable personality is just like both of yours. He never meets a stranger whether in a restaurant or on the Ocean City boardwalk. I would tell you that sometimes when I look in the mirror I see your face – I’m looking more and more like you as I age. And I would tell you how thankful I am that I can’t forget the sound of your voice because I hear it sometimes when I speak, and often when I laugh.
I could talk with you one more time, I would tell you this past year was long and short, and quick and slow. And I would end our conversation by telling you, while holding up my hands to you in heart and “I love you” gestures, “I am so grateful you were my Mom, I miss you every day, and I love you more!” – Sheryl