Dear Mom,
If only I could go back in time. I would sense you more.
I would see you.
See your struggles. See your accomplishments. See your kindnesses. See our similarities.
I would hear you.
Hear your truths. Hear your logic. Hear your love; spoken and unspoken. Hear your wisdom.
I would listen to your childhood memories and ask questions to bring out more of your feelings.
I would taste you.
Taste more fully your food—frugally kept, lovingly prepared. Taste your sweetness. Taste your thoughtfulness.
I would smell you.
Smell the effort you put into caring for us. Smell the freshly scrubbed house. Smell the freshly laundered sheets and towels. Smell the home cooked meals.
I would feel you.
Hug you. Hold your hand. Brush your hair. Massage your scalp; because you loved that.
I would accompany you. I would drive you places. I would advocate for you.
I would create Mommy-and-me memories.
I would take more pictures of you; of us.
I would forgive you. I would cherish you. I would empathize with your sorrows. I would appreciate you.
I would tell you, I’m sorry. I love you. I see you. I hear you. I feel you. You are right. You are appreciated. You are a good woman.
Older me and Mom, Spring 2012
You are gone now.
I am here, and you are . . . wherever you are.
And still—you are here, and I am . . . wherever I am.
Birthdays, holidays, ordinary days, and death days, all bring up thoughts, feelings, and memories.
Today, I will remember you and imagine you and imagine us and I will sit with you awhile.
Love,
Your daughter
(The End.)
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