Dear Mom,
I miss you more than words can articulate. I struggle with missing you each and every day.
I now understand why you were so worried about and for me before your eternal transition. You already knew what it would be like for me. You already knew the sorrow, the endless missing Mom, the void it creates, and the love I can’t physically give to you as I have all my life.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more when Granny passed. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to comfort you.
Thank you for being a Mom to the very end. I know you heard my words, both spoken and unspoken. I know you felt my touches. I know you are enjoying yourself up there, however we, I, miss you greatly here.
I promised you that I’d figure it out and I’m trying desperately, every single day. It’s hard. It’s by far the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do. I will not give up because I promised you. You were right to be concerned and worried for me.
You were right.
The void is massive!!!!
The ache NEVER stops! I miss you so much and it never stops or lessens. It’s always with me.
You already knew I would be here. You knew. You were right.
I have felt like I pressed a pause button on my life almost 3 years ago when your illness started. There is no regret from me for doing that or taking care of you. Please know I would do it all over again because I love you that much. I know you know how much I love you. I’m sorry that I got so exhausted and my body was hurting so much. I wish I could have done more. I’m sorry for my limitations. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you when you took your last breath on Earth. I wanted to be there with you. I believe you didn’t want me or any of your children in the room with you when you made your eternal transition. I believe that it stuck with you so badly watching Granny transition so you didn’t want that for me or any of us. You weren’t alone. I told you that you wouldn’t transition in the nursing home. I gave you my word and I stuck to it. You would have loved the hospice house. They treated you well.
Please forgive me for any of my shortcomings during your illness. I regret them all. I tried my absolute hardest, but I still wanted to give, try, and do more.
The world, my world isn’t as light without your physical presence. Your legacy lives on in each person whose life you touched while on this Earth. It has felt like I’m trying to press play on my life that was paused almost 3 years ago. I have tried for almost 3 months since your eternal transition. What I have recently come to realize is that there is no going back to the woman I previously was in 2021 before your illness and I can’t get back to myself. I have changed through your illness and eternal transition. Since I’m not the same I can’t go back to who I was. I am going to embrace who I am today and continue figuring out what my new normal is without your physical presence. I hope you’ll be proud of the woman I am and who I become.
As you know, last year my word for the year was transformation, in the sense of how a butterfly goes through the metamorphosis to become a beautiful butterfly. I showed you my necklace. I told you of my changes both internal and external for my transformation. God had additional plans for that word and meaning. You were going through your own metamorphosis to become something stunning in the end. You transformed too last year. There were 5 butterfly pictures in your hospice house room. I didn’t realize all year that you were transforming too. In the end you and I will share that as our final journey together. I’ve loved that we’ve shared so many journeys together. I hoped and planned for so many more together, but God had other plans.
Thank you for being an amazing Mom, grandma, and Aunt to so many.
Your love lasts forever.
I have such peace because I know where you are and that you have transitioned in peace.
Thank you.