The Last Letter

Welp, here I am again – posting another therapy homework assignment. She promised me that this is the last one, but I am not sure that I believe her.

This week I was challenged to write my response to mom’s response to my goodbye letter to her. Woof – I know right. Out of all the assignments she has given me, I told her that this was the one that moved me the least. The one that felt the least like me and what I would say to her. Because I honestly, I have no idea WHAT I would say to mom right now.  

After I read it aloud to her though, I realized that it really did move me. It moved me to tears that night and it moved me to share it with all of you – even though you are probably sick of reading about it.

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Hey mama bear -

I’m sorry about my last letter. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad – please don’t be sad for me. I can’t stand thinking of you in more pain, even now that you are gone. I know how much you loved me and how much you loved Charlie. I felt it every single day and my only regret is that I didn’t tell you how much it meant to me.

You were the single greatest mom I could have ever asked for, and I find myself lost in this empty world without you in it. I am still mad at you for promising me you weren’t going anywhere. I am mad that you would have made a promise of such magnitude given all you were going through. But I know in my heart that you never would have lied to us, that you would have never kept us from those precious days and weeks and hours if you truly thought it was all the time we would have left.

I’m not going to lie, you not making it to our birthday last year really sucked. The day after you died, I had found the cards that you picked out for us under a pile of your TPN supplies and the mounds of paper the hospice nurse left us on how to cope with grief (ha!). The worst part was – you never even signed them. You were so sure that you were going to be there that you didn’t even think twice about signing them the day you bought them. On one of the worst days of my life, sweet dad handed us both those same cards, signed with just a single name – his. You have pretty much ruined the month of February and every birthday from here on out, but that’s ok. I still love you.

You would be so proud of dad and how hard he is trying to be social and connect with people. It’s actually kind of annoying that he is finally doing all the things you wanted him to do with you – but now without you. I promise we are taking good care of him and I pressure him every day into getting a new puppy. I think when he retires this spring he won’t be able to resist – you know how good I am at convincing him to do things.

Oh! And you would never believe it, but he is letting me host Christmas in your place this year and he actually seems excited about it, which baffles me. The best part of all though is he hasn’t even mentioned a budget or a wine bottle restriction – he must be learning. 😊 I think losing you has really opened his eyes and made him understand what it means to live and enjoy the life we have. He misses you so much – it breaks my heart every time I see it on his face, but he is hanging in there.

I know my last letter was probably so hard to read, but I want you to know something.

No matter how much I hurt, no matter how much rage I have now and how many tears I cry, I could NEVER be mad at you. You fought SO hard, you hid SO much pain, and you never once complained or felt sorry for yourself. How much you continued to love us and hold us all together while you were falling apart still amazes me. I can’t tell you how much it hurt to see you in so much pain, to watch your cancer turn you into skin and bones. To see you try and mask the tears every time you would lift your left arm or choke down a sip of water. I will never be able to make you understand how scared I was as the tumors spread to your brain and faded your memory.

I wish so badly that I could have taken your place – I would have given ANYTHING to save you from those 10 months of hell. But I couldn’t, and I will always hate myself for that no matter how many times you tell me that it wasn’t my fault.

But what I hate the most is that you will not be here. That I will literally never see you again. When I think about it that way – not just that you are gone but that I will never hug you again, I will never hear you laugh or sneeze 1,000 times in a row – it knocks the wind right out of me. Because when I think about it that way, I have to think about the fact that I will have to survive the rest of my life without you in it.

How is that even possible? How is that fair?

I find myself constantly reaching for my phone, to ask your advice on something or tell you a stupid story from the day. I know you always said I was strong, but I don’t feel strong anymore. I feel sad and weathered and small and insignificant. I feel like I have become invisible in a world that keeps spinning and in a life that goes on while I am stuck frozen in time. How do you expect me to be strong when you have taken with you every ounce of normalcy and confidence I had? Some days it takes every ounce of effort to just be “OK”. For me, this depression isn’t even just sadness... it’s exhaustion, irritability, and a complete lack of motivation. It’s having no desire to do the shit that I used to love – and that scares me because 99.9% of the time I don’t even recognize the girl I have become.

Your little girl.

I am afraid of letting you down, of not living up to the girl you raised – the girl you remember me to be. You always told me that even though I was your little Maggiedoodle, I could do anything I set my mind to. You told me that I was strong and brave and fearless and beautiful, even in the moments when I was at my weakest. You always saw the best in me, despite my flaws and my long list of mistakes. All I want to be able to do is measure up to the girl you knew and believed in. All I want is for you to be proud of me, but I am afraid that the pain and bitterness and heartbreak that has consumed my soul will keep me from that. But I promise I will keep trying.

I miss you so much.

I didn’t even know it was possible actually feel what it’s like to have your heartbreak, but I get it now. The pain in missing you and the heaviness that I feel in my heart are almost too much to bear. I am scared of the person I am becoming without you here. But mostly I am scared that I am starting to forget pieces of you – and that is the most terrifying of all.