Dear Mom,
It’s been a couple of years since we said, “goodbye for now,” and yet not a day goes by that I don’t 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 say, “Oh, Mom!” And I know you would know those simple words mean I miss you and I miss taking care of you.
These years have 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 in 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 today, on Mother’s Day, I would tell you things like –I miss watching the Phillies with you. 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 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). That’s not as much fun without you either.
If I could talk to you today, on Mother’s Day, 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 I still dream of you and Dad a few times a week. And sometimes you both help me with whatever decisions I am making in my dreams. Perhaps that is because life still presents big decision situations, and I was used to consulting you and Dad.
If I could talk with you today, on Mother’s Day, 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 whoever visits turns it 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 mean someone was there? Does tails mean 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 today, on Mother’s Day, I would share that life has changed so much without you. Birthdays and holidays feel different now, but you and Dad are ALWAYS remembered and talked about at all of our gatherings. Much of your furniture and art 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.
If I could talk to you today, on Mother’s Day, I would tell you that 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 sometimes I hear it when I talk, and often when I laugh.
I could talk with you today, on Mother’s Day, I would tell you these past years were 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