Dear Mom,
It’s pouring outside again. We’ve been getting flash flood alerts off and on for weeks… the rain hasn’t eased up much in between either. You’d probably hate it here. I don’t usually mind it, though. I used to love the rain.
I feel sad a lot… and hate trying to come up with reasons that ‘make more sense’ for people to hear… ones that are also true... dreary weather… pregnancy blues… the overwhelming discomfort of these last weeks before the baby is here… lack of sleep… all more palatable than, “I just really miss my Mom and don’t always know how to compartmentalize the emotions in a way that keeps me behaving sociably”. It’s not even one of those things that you can just ‘talk out’. There’s only so much someone can say—and even then, it doesn’t really help.
I wouldn’t know what to say to me either… so I try not to put other people into the situation where they have to try to figure out what to say to make it seem better… which leads to self-isolation… and the resulting guilt from inadvertently distancing myself from everyone in an effort to spare them from grief… “it’s probably just the pregnancy hormones” … I try to convince myself, too.
“Rainy Days and Mondays” came on. You loved this song. The Carpenters. It fits. I used to think your singing voice sounded a lot like hers. You were just more self-conscious. I blame the nuns.
This morning marked Aria’s 100th day of school for this year. Her teacher said they could dress up like they’re 100 years old. You remember her outfit last year… the flowery/lace-collared mustard-colored dress with matching white sweater, big pearls, powder-haired bun, babushka, clip-on earrings, and round tortoise-shell glasses… She didn’t want to do that this year. She was going to wear a dress, the necklace, and the costume glasses, but she opted out of them saying, “I know Nonnie wasn’t 100 years old, but she didn’t wear glasses except for reading, so I’m not going to wear them today either.” They think about you a lot.
Nothing is the same anymore... not even the rain. I miss you, Mom.
Love always,
“Pookie”
Dear Mom,
I'm missing you so darn much today... even worse the closer and closer it gets to your youngest granddaughter being here.
They say babies can hear in the womb, so I've been trying to 'teach' Norah her name, talking to her, reading to her, and singing to her... just a few more weeks to go yet--if she can even stay in that long... she's really trying to make her debut early like I did.
I started singing her the "Norah" version of the "Pookie Pie" lullaby you wrote for me as a baby... and then customized for each of your grandchildren... I could almost hear you singing it with me... I remember as a child how soothing it was (even though you'd always make fun of your own voice)... and when you rocked Machaela to sleep with the very same lullaby... Aria too... I still have little video clips of those precious moments safely tucked away in my memories... I broke down. I couldn't even finish the song. I'm sorry.
I miss you so much I can't stand it.
Love always,
"Pookie"
---
Pookie Pie lullaby
Little one, don't you cryMommy loves Pookie
Daddy does tooJenny does
Trissy does
Grammy and Nana do
We all love Pookie,
Pookie too.
---
...you made sure we never felt unloved.
Dear Mom,
It's almost been 4 months since you left and although I haven't been writing as much, I haven't been thinking about you any less... and your absence hasn't been hurting any less either. I think it actually aches more the closer it gets to the baby being here... because you're not. And you were so excited about her making her debut on/around your birthday, too. I hope she does... wouldn't that be something?
You already know what she looks like, don't you? What color her hair will be... her eyes... the curve of her smile... will she be happy? I worry that all of the sadness I've felt with her growing inside of me... all of the missing you... somehow makes her sad too... like she'll be less content because of my mourning or that my grief passes through to her just like the nutrients from the foods that I eat. I don't want to give her anything but joy.
I know it sounds silly, but you always understood my thoughts when no one else could make any sense of them. I miss that. So many of our family members and friends have been reaching out with kindness, love, and encouragement the past months... they're so wonderful and I feel like I must be so ungrateful sometimes because despite everyone's best efforts, there's still that heartbreaking ache in my life without you. It's always there. I just want my Mom back.
I still try to call you. I've still even gone to message you one time when Dad was signed into your account to change your cover photo for you. It didn't even occur to me that it wasn't you... as if my mind hadn't processed the full extent of loss yet, or that my heart's acknowledgment reverted back to temporary subconscious denial somehow.
I know it's comforting for him to see your memories. He needs that. But it still hasn't sunk in... the past tense of it all. The realization that all of the memories that I have of you are all of the ones I will ever have. I wish we made more. I went to change my ringtone today... to a calmer one... and as I was going down the list, the tracks automatically start playing a preview of the clip... Jordan Smith's version of "Chandelier" from The Voice started chiming out and I absolutely broke down remembering the time we listened to that song on repeat for probably about three days or so, driving Dad a little bit crazy... but it was our thing.
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier From the chandelier I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist Like it doesn’t exist I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night Feel my tears as they dry I’m gonna swing from the chandelier From the chandelier But I’m holding on for dear life Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes Keep my glass full until morning light ‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight Help me, I’m holding on for dear life Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes Keep my glass full until morning light ‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight, on for tonight
We joked about how silly it would look to have people swinging from chandeliers and added it to our bucket lists... to swing from chandeliers while singing "Chandelier"... so I turned it into a ringtone for you, but it was eventually replaced by "The Goldbergs" theme song... our show.
The girls walked into the room as I sat there next to the pile of clean laundry I meant to fold, sobbing over the song playing... they knew I was crying because I miss you... they miss you too... so much.
"It's okay, Mom... we know you miss her. We miss Nonnie too."
I know that you felt bad about the past year... not feeling well enough to do as much as you wanted to with them, or take them to as many places as you'd have liked... I know you worried about the way they'd remember their time with you... but you shouldn't have.
Those girls adore you and remember so many wonderful thoughts, jokes, snuggles, and lessons you shared with them. We really were so blessed to have you in our lives... I just ache for the impossibility of more time with you on this side of forever.
I miss you, Mom. We all do.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Dear Mom,
I understand now how much our little creations meant to you.
Aria made this precious tree for me at school, not knowing that it was just the encouragement I needed.
I love her sense of perceptive compassion.
Thank you for being a shining example of how to be a Mom worth loving.
I guess I must be doing it right after all. ♡
I miss you.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Dear Mom,
I broke down last night when Trissy surprised me with a few special gifts you had been working on together specifically for the night before our wedding... including another Montgomery Moose... like the one you sent with me to school in first grade because you couldn't be there and I was nervous... like the very same one we tucked into your casket with you less than two months ago so you wouldn't be scared about being alone.
For as wonderful as today is... and for as happy as I am... it also still hurts.
I'll tell you more about everything later... 4 o'clock waits for no one.
I bet you'll be beautiful, too. I can't wait.
I miss you, Mom.
We all do. So much.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Dear Mom,
I can hardly believe that in less than two days, I have the honor of marrying the first boy I ever had a crush on.
You always had a soft spot in your heart for him... the cute little redhead who kept smiling at me during church... even back when we were kids. You weren't surprised in the least when we reconnected over twenty years later... when we fell head over heels for each other... again... or when he proposed on the Isle of Palms.
I remember your excitement when we called you afterwards... I remember our long talks about how much you were looking forward to recovering well enough to be able to be next to me when we exchange our vows. My matron of honor... and I know that you WILL be there, smiling down on us... probably saying, "Well, it's about time! I told you he was a keeper!"
It's going to be just us, the girls... our family... and even though we won't be able to celebrate in person with all of our friends and loved ones until after the pandemic retreats, it'll still be as perfect as can be.
I haven't finished writing my vows yet... I have so much of my heart to share--too much to fit into the span of a mere couple of minutes. I wish I could read them to you... so you can tell me if I'm being too funny when I should be serious... or being too serious when I should lighten up... but I think you would say to let my heart speak for itself instead of trying to nitpick at words.
There are less than two days until my first ever boyfriend also becomes my last... and I can hardly wait to tell you all about it. ♡
I miss you, Mom.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Dear Mom,
I had a dream about you last night. My first one since that nightmare last month... this was actually a dream, though... or part of one, at least. So much of it was abstract... hidden armoires underneath the floor boards of a random building, an elevator of sorts that was more like its own structure... so many fleeting forgotten mirages of the imagination... and then there was you.
The scene shifted. We were at Grammy's house. Jenn was sitting on Grammy's old recliner--the one Grammy would fall asleep in while watching her soaps... the one with the sort of tight knit upholstery texture with mixtures of dark sienna and aged mustard micro-patterns woven into it... or at least that's how my memory has it stored. The recliner didn't quite match the carpet, but it didn't clash either. It was a constant. And Jenn was sitting in it. I don't know the relevance, but that's how it was.
You were there, too... sitting in a chair right where the lamp table used to be... the one that housed her 'newfangled' phone with all of its preset speed dial buttons and the safety alert station. I remember how fancy I thought it was... it had probably over 30 numbers programmed into it and at the press of a little grey rubbery button, your call was on its way through. Of course, if you forgot to press the 'shift' button, you'd accidentally call the wrong person... Grammy did that a lot.
I don't remember the context of the scenario... I think Jenn and I were working on some sort of project... but the project didn't matter.
You didn't speak at all the entire time, but you were present. You observed. It was significant somehow.
For a while, everything seemed normal... but then I looked over and you had found a confetti popper--like the ones for the 4th of July--except instead of paper streamers, ornate cut-out snowflakes gleamed down over our heads. It was beautiful. You stared up as they shimmered, marveling at their intricacy.
Even in my dream, I felt the tugging ache of missing you, but I didn't know yet that I already had been. I had this sinking feeling like I was going to lose you soon... so I got up from where I sat and leaned in to wrap my arms around you for a hug... I remember thinking, "I need to hug her all I can now because she won't be here to comfort me like this forever."
I backed up just far enough to see you-- tears welling in your eyes, streaming down your face... like you already knew there wasn't much time...
I wasn't ready for it to end though... I wanted to rest my head on your shoulder and listen to the reassurance of your breaths... to hug you until I felt the safe comfort of simply being near, knowing that everything would be okay because you were still there.
But it was 6 o'clock and the blaring sound of my alarm wrenched me away. I pressed "snooze". I thought that maybe if I closed my eyes again, I could siphon just a few more minutes of time with you--even if just in a dream. It didn't work.I miss you, Mom. Thank you for the hug.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Today is the first day I find myself actually alone since you’ve been gone. I thought I’d be handling it better. That seems to be the case a lot lately, actually… the thinking I’d handle something better than I actually do.
I heard an ice cream truck drive by and remembered the days at Grammy’s house on Hayes Street when we’d play “My Car, Your Car” and see the ice cream truck moseying along. Sometimes we’d have leftover pocket change from the corner store for a treat… or Grammy would slip us each a few coins to go pick something out if we’d been well behaved.
I’d usually choose the red, white, and blue popsicle… or the flavor-of-the-week ice cream shaped like a random popular cartoon character.
I told myself that if I heard the ice cream truck go by again today, I’d go outside and choose something–even if it seemed weird that I didn’t have any children with me.
But I didn’t anticipate reaction time for the current situation of how long it takes me to waddle around with a baby bump… and before I could get to the door, the familiar song had already faded off down the street.
Yeah, I teared up. Over ice cream I wasn’t even hungry for… or perhaps it was over a few memories I couldn’t get back.
I went to call you today… so many times… to update you about Aria’s first day back to school since before the pandemic… to talk about the weekend… to see how you’re doing and if you and Dad still get to sit up on the deck and watch the birds at the feeders with Ranger leaping around energetically, scaring them away… and when I couldn’t, I cried for that too.
I thought I’d be doing better today, but it seems like I keep getting choked up over the little things all connecting back to this massive crevice in my heart without you here.
So far it’s been a missed ice cream truck, a knitted baby blanket in the wrong shape… again, a gas tank, a plastic cup in the driveway, incomplete calls, and so many thoughts cascading through my mind without anywhere to land. I’ve never missed anyone so much, Mom.
Dear Mom,
Today is a really hard day without you... not that saying so separates today from all of the other really hard days without you.
My soul knows you're in a better place, my heart wishes you were still here, and my mind is furious at everything and nothing-- all at the same time-- because you're not. And I know that's selfish. I just want to call you. I keep wanting to call you. I miss your advice. I miss your nagging. I miss subconsciously rolling my eyes at everything I already knew you were going to say before you opened your mouth to say it. I even miss you telling me when I'm wrong. Because it was still you. Weighing in. Being present.
There are so many big decisions in my life right now... and little ones too... like, "How long do you think we should wait before we set the date?" "Wouldn't 'Tiffany blue' be a lovely color for the baby's nursery?" "What would you do if..." "Which outfit fits better on me?" "How would you handle this important situation?" "Should I use spaghetti noodles or rigatoni?"
For all of the birthdays, Mother's Days, Valentine's Days, Thanksgivings, Christmases, and other special times throughout the years when I've told you you're irreplaceable... I couldn't have meant it more. You truly are.
I miss you, Mom.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Dear Mom,
The visitor wristband from September 24th came apart in the shower this morning.
I guess it was time.
I miss you; I don't see that ever changing.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Kaleidoscopic Grace 