Dear MomPosted: September 9, 2012
Well, it’s been three years now since you died. This is probably going to be the last year I’ll write to you on the date of your death. From now on, I’d rather celebrate the anniversary of your birth, and your life. I think of you often, and I’d rather not dwell on the cancer, the hospice room, and the sadness. I don’t believe you would have wanted that from any of us. I will, however, always remember those beautiful sunflowers.
I haven’t seen a deer yet today, but I expect one will come by. A doe, one who will bring a sense of warmth and peace. She always shows up, as if you sent her.
I do hope you’ve been able to see and follow your great-granddaughters. They are so beautiful and talented. Emma is seven years old now and very much into dance. She’s still a little shy, but the dancing seems to be helping her slide out of her shell a little bit. Maddy is three and there is very little shyness about her. She’s the most joyful human being I’ve ever met. They have captured my heart. Having been a grandmother long before me, you already know what that’s like.
Your grandsons, my two sons, are doing well. I have some minor worries about them from time to time. I read somewhere that when you have a child, you only worry about them for the first 30 years of their lives. I think they should make that 40 years. It could turn out to be longer, but you know how that is, too.
The real reason I’m writing today is to say thank you. I also want to say you were right. (I can see you grinning at that one! lol!)
Love, love, love you, Mom. Thanks for being here, in my heart, this morning. I enjoyed the chat. I even had a cup of coffee in your honor. I don’t know how you used to drink that stuff (potful after potful!!). I can, however, appreciate the energy rush from the caffeine. (Now I’m grinning. And chuckling. No wonder you were always on the move, unable to sit for more than a few minutes!)
Today I will put aside the worries and sadness, and focus on all the gifts, the joys, and the wonders of life. Thanks, Mom.
For the first four years after she died, I felt like an orphan. Then one night she came to me in a dream, and from that moment on, I no longer felt her death as a loss. I understood that she had never died, that my sorrow was based on an illusion… The reality of my mother was beyond birth or death. I saw that being and non-being are not separate… Being able to see my mother in a dream, I realized that I could see my mother everywhere.
~ Thich Nhat Hanh
- No Death; No Fear – Thich Nhat Hanh Was Right (write-on-target.com)
- Bones in the woods (bogsofohio.wordpress.com)
- Miss you, Mom (bogsofohio.wordpress.com)
- Just a post (bogsofohio.wordpress.com)
- She’s gone (bogsofohio.wordpress.com)
- On the road again soon (bogsofohio.wordpress.com)
- Home (bogsofohio.wordpress.com)