Period at the end of a sentence.

 A great friend of mine and I had a midnight chat the other night. It wasn't like other nights where I stayed up too late having a good time. This was a time when I felt stuck, stuck in my grief and the realization that the moment the bells chime and the ball drops tomorrow, my mother will be lost to time. There have already been so many things that she has missed but the close of a year brings finality to it.  It is a hard thing to accept and yet time moves on with or without my realization.  New years is a hard one because it is the end of this year, a year my mom won't escape, a new year she won't see. It is a period at the end of a sentence that is finished being written but so much has been left unsaid. I recognize that we die in the middle of sentences and that our books never truly finish when illness causes an end. It is always a tragedy. They are always too young, too kind, too [insert sentiment here] and yet all those kind words wound. It's funny that the words you wish to say to someone who has suffered a loss can sometimes wound more than ease the suffering. I understand that we do it as a means to show that we are feeling for them, but ultimately that loss is a neverending ache. It is a burden we carry for the rest of our lives from which there is no relief. But to get back to our conversation, she told me that it would benefit me to write directly to her. I was shocked when she said it because it seemed so simple and mundane to think that I could just write to her. My friend said to write to her even though I would never be able to send it, write to cancer... write to the traumas I have been dealt.

 So here goes: 

Mom, 

There is so much I wish you could see. When you left on your grand voyage, the rest of us were shattered. I do not say that to guilt you, as I know you tried everything. You did rounds upon rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, and immunotherapy. Luck was not on your side. Tumor placements and types of cancer made it so things did not go the way you had wanted but here we are. You are gone and we remain. The kids still talk about grandma. Grayson cannot seem to compute that you are dead, he says it often, that "Grandma is dead". Every time he says it, it takes my breath away. It is a small little dagger that he doesn't mean to drive home and yet, he is trying to understand where you went. It is hard for them to be so little, but I know this hurt won't wound them as great. 

I miss your voice and your laugh. You seemed bothered every time I called, but I called because I missed you and wanted to hear your voice, even if it chastised me for calling "too much". I was far enough away that it was a luxury that I wish I hadn't taken for granted. You are my mom and you were the person I could ask questions about being a mom. Admittedly I made it very clear that I was going to do things on my terms, however, I still wanted your input (even if I listened only 40% of the time). I was infinitely proud when you held onto Sterling, or when you cuddled with Sophia or Grayson. You always had a way of making "llama's house" special.  I miss you talking to Grayson on the phone and him saying the "Darnedest things" and the glee you had from interacting with your "sweet babies". 

I think one of the hardest parts has been to see the hurt and the difficulty that dad is going through. I desperately want to take that away from him but I know that will never be. There is a "you-shaped" hole in all of us and he is reminded of it daily, living in the home you two built. I am doing the best I can to help him, calling him every day and being there to lean on. 

We have been trying to find our own coping mechanisms and for me, music was always something that I connected to. There is a singer you would have loved by the name of Dean Lewis who sings a song about losing a parent. A moment of what I like to call "fuck you radio" when I first heard it as with all things, it struck a nerve. The lyrics that stood out for me were:

And I promise if you go, I will make sure she's alright

So how do I say goodbye

To someone who's been with me for my whole damn life?

You gave me my name and the color of your eyes

I see your face when I look at mine

So how do I, how do I, how do I say goodbye?

I feel like I am perpetually asking that question, How do I say goodbye? How do we as a family say goodbye and more so, how do I take care of the ones I love when they are just as hurt as I am.  I feel like every morning is another day I say goodbye to you. I am still continuing with the promises I made, the things you made me promise just to you when no one was around. I promised that I would take care of Dad and Carly. I promised you that I would do the best I could to make sure everything is taken care of and well, you did a lot. Your absence is hard and everyone is grieving in their own way.

 I wish I could show you the funny stories and kind words left at your celebration of life. I organized it exactly the way you wanted me to even though I told you I would do it how I wanted because you wouldn't be there (I was being a shit disturber because it felt like the discussion required a little levity). It was a beautiful day and everyone said you would have been so proud of what we pulled together, but I hated that you weren't there to see all of your loved ones and friends gather for you. Admittedly, you would have hated them making a fuss out of you, but you would have enjoyed the party. When you were first diagnosed I told you that you had an army and you had a hard time fathoming that. They showed up in droves to your celebration and the unfortunate side effect was that everyone got Covid. It was not the takeaway we wanted, but you would have laughed at the luck.  Your siblings were there and helped with whatever they could, and your amazing friends helped us every step of the way. The love that was shared that day was beautiful. 

In a way, your passing on healed some things in our family. Don't get me wrong we miss you heaps and droves, but the realization that time is precious, that you will always be precious, is not lost on us. It made us appreciate our time together and embedded a sense of magic that we seem to look for when we gather. I like to think the magic is you mom, you were magic. 

Mom, my babies are growing up and I have a wish that will go unanswered. I wish that you could be here to see them grow and to laugh and share in their joy. Dad is filling in when and wherever he can and you would be so proud of what he has accomplished. You, of course, would be so shocked that he is driving down to me and watching the boys whenever he can, he is cleaning things and he has also somewhat figured out the cellphone. Every day he tries to learn and do something new. 

What I am trying to say to you is that I miss you. Every day I miss you. I try my hardest to be strong and hold it together for them in the quiet moments but it hurts. The grief chokes me sometimes but please know that I am not going to stop because of the hurt. We come from very determined "stock" and I will carry on fulfilling the promises I made to you and will always endeavor to make you proud. 

I love you, Mom