I know, double day. Who knew I would be writing two times today?

Today would have been my Mom’s 75th birthday. She will forever be 73, as she passed 10 days before her birthday. I honestly didn’t even know that her birthday became a National US Holiday. I guess this was a thing or became a thing in 2021. When this became a thing, we were dealing with Mom and her illness and I guess I didn’t pay attention to much in these 3 years other than my family and Mom.

I started writing Mom a letter awhile ago. Many, many months ago actually. I would start it, bawl my eyes out and then stop, but then start again. I finally finished it and I’m going to post it here. I didn’t take out any names of my family and this will be the only time I really use names on here.

Mom-

              It has taken me a year to write you this letter. It isn’t that I haven’t had anything to say, but rather I haven’t known how to put my thoughts down in a letter to you. Why is it so hard to not be able to put into words what I’m thinking when it comes to you. Like most things with me, it takes time for me to process my thoughts and I have finally been able to articulate what those thoughts are relating to you.

              You and I didn’t have the typical Mother/Daughter relationship. Even from my earliest memory of you, I had this type of obsession when it comes to you. My world revolved around where you were, what you said or how you acted. I didn’t necessarily want to be you, but I sure needed to understand WHO you were so I could absorb what you were. I wrote the story of my first memory of you, the one where you farted, and I was walking behind you. In a nutshell, that was how I was with you. I was your shadow. Where you were, I was. It was incredible how one person could be the center of my universe. I learned it young. If you weren’t by me, I needed something that smelled like you. I started to steal your nightgown because I could sleep with it like a blanket, like you were right there with me.

              There were many stories you used to tell me about me when I was a baby, how I had long legs and Grandma called me stretch. I used to need to be put to sleep with some type of sound, whether that be the hair dryer or the clothes dryer. If I wasn’t in your arms, I couldn’t be soothed. I remember those stories like you told them to me yesterday. I don’t ever want to forget them. If I close my eyes, I can hear you telling them to me.

              When I was growing up, I remember other memories relating to you. You used to hate that Dad made his “nutritious breakfast” and would dump it down the toilet. You would make us zucchini bread, Rice Crispy bars that sometimes had peanut butter in them, hash browns from a box because they were just so good. You did what you could to make us feel like we were yours, when the living environment wasn’t the best.

              I remember the bad stuff too because there was a lot of it. Surprisingly, I don’t really remember how YOU were during the bad, but I remember feeling loved by you. Being safe with you. Knowing and feeling that when you were there, everything was going to work out. You would come into my room at night, rub my back and I felt safe.  Those strong feelings of love and safety have never left me. I just don’t remember, but I feel them still.

              During the divorce, I didn’t have any other option other than to be with you. It was always you. I didn’t have eyes for anyone else, but you. It didn’t matter where we were going or end up, if we were together, I was going to be happy. We had a few places that we lived and when we ended up in Fairbault, I was ok with it. We were going to have a new family with John and Simone, along with Teresa and Mike.

              As much as I hate to admit it, this is where our relationship changed the first time. It wasn’t really in a bad way, but a different way. At the age of 9, I was forced to change. I was forced to share you with other people. What you don’t realize is that this is hard for anyone to do, at any age, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t talk to you about it because you had your new person and a baby on the way. Sharing is something you are supposed to learn when you are little, but I didn’t have to do that before now. Seems silly when I put the words down on paper, but the reality is, I didn’t know how to do it. In some ways, I was acting like a toddler at times. I just didn’t want to share you with anyone. You were mine.

              By reading this, you may be feeling some type of guilt. You usually did when I would share any type of memories about my childhood. You felt so much guilt when it came to the divorce, falling in love quickly with the love of your life. I know you felt that you included me, and you didn’t want me left behind. It’s ok to feel these feelings. I only wish that I had shared them earlier with you, so we could have had more time to talk them through. I didn’t know, at the time, what I was feeling so I couldn’t do anything about that.

              When Simone came into the world, each day you and I were growing further apart. I was deeply in love with my baby sister, but I was losing you along the way. She was your priority, and I was not. I started to act out and we would fight. I would lie and we would fight. The longer this dance went on, not only did we grow further apart, but our relationship started to suffer. You would say that I was acting out because I wanted some type of contact with you, that I was trying to get your attention. I used to laugh at you because no, that wasn’t it. I was trying to let you go. I was trying to protect my heart and learn to live a life without you. I was trying to learn how to live my life without my obsession. Not only was I “becoming a woman”, but I was trying to fill the void.

              We did have a good life. God, did we ever. We had the best home, we had lots of love. To finally witness a loving relationship between two people, it was beautiful to see. Even at that young age, to see you and John together. It was a major culture shock to say the least. Dinners as a family, smiling at one another, kisses, and hugs. You don’t realize how much of a blessing this was to witness and be a part of daily. Even when John had a trip, it was you and me and Simone. It was love. I know you loved me and I felt it every second. I loved my little sister and it was so fun being together.

              While all of this was going on, when I was finding myself and growing up in the crazy world, I was doing just that. I was trying to figure out how to obsess somewhere else. I did NOT find that with drugs or alcohol, I didn’t even want to. With what I saw with Dad, how John handled alcohol, I didn’t need to experiment or bury my feelings. But I did try to find it with friends, boyfriends and sports. You remember that time? I know I do. I found many boyfriends, found my first love after many “boyfriends”. You didn’t like it, not one bit. But at the same time, I think you understood it. I really did. You understood it from a distance. If I tried to talk about a friend or a boyfriend or even sports, you would give your opinion. Most of the time, your opinion would just piss me off. It wasn’t insightful usually and it did make me question what the hell I was doing, but in the opposite way.

              Let’s fast forward to the big move. The time was coming to make the move to France as a family. John had gotten the chance of a lifetime to work overseas. At the time, I didn’t think much of this move. I mean, I did, obviously, but looking back on it, what a huge event. I know I wasn’t much help around the house, and I grumbled when I had to pack up my room. I guess you could say that this was me being the rebellious teenager, acting out my frustration and just being a jerk. All I really worried about was leaving my boyfriend. Stupid really, I was only 14 and the boy was all I cared about.

              When we got to France, we really bonded as a family. Mostly we had to, because we didn’t really speak the language and didn’t have any of our stuff. No furniture, not many friends, but we had each other. I remember eating dinner on phone books and trying to digest the day. Somehow, we got through these tough and lonely times. Things then got better, we learned the language, I met some friends, and we were past the initial culture shock and took some trips. Midway through that first year, I realized that things were missing for me. Things that I thought I needed in my life that couldn’t be given to me in France. In all honesty, finishing high school over there is what really terrified me the most. I wanted to have the US high school experiences; prom, sports, being able to understand the teacher. It was all I could think about and was all I wanted. I didn’t share any of this with you because, well, you were dealing with everything there at the time. When I went home to visit Dad that summer, the situation presented itself that I could live with him, and I took it. You thought that this was a spur of the moment type decision, when in fact, it wasn’t. It had been in the works in my head for months.

              This moment, when I decided to not come back to France, was another change in our relationship, but proved to be pivotal for what was to be our new relationship. This was a big one. You were absolutely destroyed and took the news personally. How could you not? I left you. I left you to live with someone I didn’t really care for or know. I left you, Simone and John. I knew and felt that our relationship would be forever different, and it was. You weren’t mean, you weren’t rude or spiteful, you were just distant, unlike what you had been before. You put me at arm’s length so you wouldn’t be hurt by me again. I destroyed you, didn’t I? After this moment, you were there, you were so loving and just as amazing, but you were separated from me. For many years after this, I felt that. It wasn’t until college, when I came and lived with you for several months (and had therapy), that you and I talked about this. We learned to be again, but you never really came out and said that I broke your heart. I can’t say I’m sorry, because I did what I did for me, but if anything, I wish I could have seen our relationship HAD I stayed.  

              The good thing about all of this, to this point, is we really got to start something new with us. No longer was I your daughter, but we began to know each other as friends. We didn’t get to see each other much, with me in school, then having a baby, getting married—we built our relationship out of talking. Lots and lots of talking. Lots of the time I would call you and cry and ask for help because I didn’t know what to do, but most of the time, we were talking. I learned so many things about you during all these conversations, that I cannot just pick out a few to recap here.  I learned more about you as an adult than I ever even could imagine, things that weren’t even discussed when I was a kid and growing up. We chose each other because we wanted to work on us and wanted to know each other. I know there were ups and downs, but at the end of the day, we were mother and daughter, but as friends.

              I’m not going to pinpoint the time that I knew your time was limited because after one year Mom, that shit is not any easier. I can say, shockingly, that there was something positive about your illness: I got to spend time with you. Up until you got sick, I would see you maybe 2 times a year. Those visits would vary depending on where we would be, but there were not many. This was how it was, ever since I didn’t come back to France. If you do the math, 15 until 42, that’s 27 years and minimum of 54 visits. When you got sick, I came down to help a lot and averaged 7 visits for 3 years. 21 visits Mom. 21 visits where I got to make more memories with you. Memories that have morphed into feelings. Just being able to be with you, sleep with you, help you do anything, laughing, hugging…all feelings. That is priceless to me. I knew it at the time. I knew that every time I would come down to see you in Florida, that you were going to be different when I came back. I hoped that I wasn’t going to mean you were going to pass away, but just not be the same as you have been. I always had hope. While I will always have these, they will never replace you. But they do help.

              This year without you has had all the firsts without you; birthdays, holidays, Mother’s Day…but also some never-agains. Those are the worst. It almost feels like you were never there to experience them, and I shouldn’t be going through these events without you. You should be here, and you should be experiencing these WITH me. This is the hardest part and I’m not dealing with it well. I know I will be ok and will be able to process this loss with help. I know your spirit is around me. I feel it. I see it in the dragon flies and the cardinals. Everyone of those never-agains, there has been one or the other or both. I know you didn’t want to leave.

              I will end this with telling you that I miss you so goddamn much. You were the glue to so many parts of my life. You made the most sense. Everything about you made sense. Silly thing to say, but you were such an amazing force that left us too soon. To those that didn’t know you, I talk about you so much that they feel they did know you. To those that did know you, I remind them of you. I am having to rewire my brain to live my life without my Mom. It is the most confusing and hurtful thing I’ve ever encountered, and I’m so scared I will fail. I don’t know if I’m doing it right and I don’t know if I ever want to figure it out. My biggest fear is forgetting. I don’t want to forget how it feels to hug you, to hear your laugh in my head, to hear how you say my name.   

              You were my first love and my truest love. I love you always.