An Open Letter to my Mother on the seventh anniversary of her death.

Hi Mom.

I'm not sure where to start, 7 years is a long time. A lot has changed, I've changed a lot. I like to think you would be proud of me at this point in my life, but I'm not sure you would. I've lost a lot of my faith. A long held tradition of fearless, prayerful, God fearing  women might skip me. I feel like I'm letting you down because of it. (My therapist called it individuation, apparently it's normal, something about self realization.) At the same time, I like to think that you would be a little bit proud of me. I've made it to a point where overall I'm happy.

I need you to know that I'm trying. I'm trying to find my way around, and to build a good life. I'm trying to make my heart lighter, sometimes I accomplish it. I have a lot of little moments now, where I'm perfectly content & happy. I have friends that you never got to meet, but I think you might like them. I think you would be proud of my job, even if it isn't on the heart team. I sucked at that one (although this be fair, I might've been ok if almost everyone on that team wasn't an asshole. I wasn't emotionally ready then. I could probably hold my own now. I'm not afraid to bite back anymore.) I work with a bunch women. A lot of them are your age, so it's nice to have some maternal guidance once in awhile. I started there about 6 months after you died. It was where I needed to be.

I'm not sure I'm a great adult. It's lonely, not having anyone want to take care of me anymore. I'm not sure anyone actually notices or cares about me some days, no one is quite as invested in you like your mom is, you know? No phone calls, no thinking of you gifts, no guidance. I feel a little bit blind & clumsy trying to navigate it all. Like I'm pretending at being an adult woman, just waiting on you to walk me through it. I'm trying to figure it out. 

I was talking to Andrew last week about how I wish you had gotten to own an iPhone. Remember all those hospital stays when we had to find a portable DVD player? Well, it's all digital now. We carry our movies on our phones. You would've loved candy crush & You would've kicked my butt on words with friends. 

People think I'm smart (it's the glasses) and I can never explain how much smarter you were.  They also think I'm mature...don't laugh. Trauma makes you grow up, I think. Maybe. Maybe it can make you immature too, depending on how you handle it. I had you and dad as role models, so I think I only had one route to take. Andrew kept me pretty sane too. 

There are new Star Wars now. Disney bought Star Wars. There's a new trilogy & 3 new stand alones. We go to all the midnight showings & I think of you every time. I always wish you were there to see them. And the Star Wars conventions! You would've been amazed each time. You would love them...We've gone to 3 of them. The first one we went to was 2 months after you died, and it was the first time I had been happy since. (I thought you would appreciate knowing that.) 

I don't have any kids. It's still me, Andrew & Maeby. Megan has a daughter, Rebecca Paige. She calls me Shushu & she looks just like me. She's smart too. And she saved dad. He dotes on her & she adores him.  I feel bad that she's the only kid on our side though. She cut all her hair off, into your haircut. She's a feisty little thing. I think she gets it from you. 

Yeah, I wish you were here to help me deal with that. I'm not sure I'm ever going to get pregnant, or be a mom. I might just be the aunt that everyone feels a little bit sorry for/is a little bit jealous of. I would've liked to talk to you about it though. Even if you wouldn't have known what to say (because no one ever does) you could've hugged me through it. That would've helped. 

Andrew and I are pushing 10 years (next year!) Its been easier than I thought it would be. I think dealing with your death made me a lot more careful, aware & appreciative of my time with him. My biggest fear is him suddenly dying in a freak accident or something. We don't live "everyday like it's our last" but we're very aware that it can end at any point. (Another issue for the therapist.) He's still great. I'm glad he got to see yours & dad's relationship...I feel like ours has some similarities. He's taken really good care of me & held my hand through some really crappy things. I hope he could say the same thing about me. 

Maeby is still good. Older, but good. We lived with dad & Megan for a little while after you died, so her and Chester were partners in crime. He died a few years ago too. That was tough. In case you were wondering, Maeby loves Paige & Paige loves Maeby. They're bff's. She's sleeping at my feet right now. She's got some gray on her muzzle, but she still likes cuddling just as much as she did when she was a puppy. (Plus she keeps my feet warm at night.)

I miss you. I need you here. I know that it's pointless to even say it, or think it, but I still do. But you should know that I'm happy more often than I'm not. I think that would make you happy. I feel very grateful to have the family & friends that I do, to have people that care about me & take an interest...even if it's not even close to the same as you. 

I'm not sure that I will ever recover from when you died. I'm not sure you heard me on the way out, but I was screaming. Loudly. People thought Andrew was attacking me. I can still hear it, because it echoed in the garage. I felt you get cold. I wanted to punch the preacher in the corner reading scripture while we said goodbye. I wanted to yell & scream at her, I hated her. I know she didn't deserve it. The nurse who took care of you was crying too. We stayed in the waiting room for hours after you died, we didn't know what to do or where to go. We didn't want to leave you. Walking out of the hospital & leaving you behind for the last time was the hardest thing I've ever had to.  

Also, I'm sorry your makeup looked a tad bit whorish at the funeral. I took your makeup in & they said we wouldn't get it back...So I kept it. And they screwed your makeup up, (Everyone said you looked beautiful, but it just made me want to laugh! You never wore red lipstick. I also might've been in shock.) It did help to disocciate your body from you though. 

It was trauma. I'm trying to work through some of it. 

You were a great mom, just so you know. Like beyond awesome. Not perfect, but pretty fantastic on your own. I know you didn't like how you looked, but I look at myself in the mirror and I look for glimpses of you. I look at your pictures and try to find myself in your face. You were beautiful. ( I also justify spending loads of money on skincare & makeup because you did it...so thanks for that too!)

Thank you for everything you did for me; the music lessons, the flute, the bribing with books, the Girl Scouts, the art, reminding me how important Megan would be to me...Thanks for trying to be the best mom you could be. Thank you for being so involved in our lives. It makes missing you bearable sometimes. 

I know you never really felt like it, but you mattered. So much. You were important. There hasn't been a day in seven years that your absence hasn't been painfully felt by all of us. We miss you, almost as much as we've loved you. Thank you for who you were & who you made us. 

I miss you and I love you

SuSu