A Love Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom,

An empty spot opened in my heart when you died on January 23, 2022, leaving a deep sense of loneliness that cannot be filled, only lived with.  There will never be anyone like you again.  You knew me before the world knew me, carrying me inside you, your blood flowing through me, giving me life.

I was the first baby you saw born in the reflection of the delivery room window.  You always told me that I was ready to run off your lap from the minute I was born.  Being the second child of five in five years, you had your hands full.  However, dad was always good to you, ensuring you had help and taking you out to dinner to give you a break.

You always ensured that we were connected to our relatives, visiting Geneva to see your mom, sister, and our many cousins.  Back then, large families were the norm.  During the summers, we would camp at Cayuga State Park in cabin 8, so we could stay with Aunt Amelia and her kids.  We were free-range children during those summers.  Then, as if having five children weren’t enough, you would have our cousins come to Syracuse, up to seven girls at a time,  to stay for Easter break or during the summer.  We had a tiny home with one bathroom, but you were always a welcoming force.

You made sure we were involved in activities: dance, music, sewing classes, square, summer day camps, and charm school (ugh).  In addition, you took on the role of Brownie and Girl Scout leader.  I don’t know where you got the energy for all you did, though the coffee pot was on all day long.

With any mother-daughter relationship, we had our ups and downs.  However, when I became a mother, I better understood what you went through.  Another thing that I learned along the way is that as I was able to give myself the grace and acceptance that I did the best that I could with what I had at the time, I could extend that grace to you.

I miss hearing your voice, telling me how proud you are of me, that you loved me, and God bless me when we spoke on the phone. I’m grateful that I got to tell you how much I loved you every time I talked to you.

Your pictures are in places where I can see them: on the walls, on my phone, and computer home screen.   Gentle memories of you drift through my mind when I least expect it.  When I talk to strangers and engage them in conversation, I know that’s a part of you living through me.

It breaks my heart that I can’t have your physical presence anymore, but you live within me.

With a grateful heart, I send my love to you.

Jennifer