Goodbye, Mom

Dear Mom,

I can’t believe I am writing you this letter. It’s a letter I never wanted to write because I wanted you to live forever. I know how absurd that statement is, but it's true nonetheless. You were the rock I leaned on. The woman who whispered words of encouragement inside my head when I faced mountains I thought were impossible to move. Your voice has echoed through me saying, “You can move this mountain, Ma. Just do one thing, and then another. It’ll be moved before you know it, Molly. Keep going… pull it together.”

My heart hasn’t fully comprehended losing you. My emotions feel stuck, and it's like I’m walking through an overcast day every day since you passed. I’ll think about calling you, and then I’ll remember that I can’t, and that realization hurts more than the initial shock of losing you. Though you told me time and time again that everything would be okay when you left, I want you to know it isn’t okay.

The world isn’t as bright, Mom. The flowers don’t smell as sweet, and though I know I’m blessed beyond measure to love and be loved, I don’t have you.

How do I begin to say goodbye to the woman who raised me as her own? The grief comes and goes, and sometimes, it’s so strong, that it brings me to my knees, and I can’t catch my breath. I try to remember how you would want me to respond during moments when I feel lost in the tide of my sorrow, but it’s all still too new… the pain too fresh.

Your memory is alive in my mind. I can still see the warmth of your smile and feel your presence as though you are still here. I feel like you are. You’re in every lily I see on my morning walk, you’re in the sun glistening on my neighborhood lake, and in the laughter of my best friends who check in on me to see if I am okay. You are everywhere, Mom because you are the woman who taught me that loving people is the greatest gift of all.

I keep remembering the last moment I kissed your forehead. You looked so beautiful, Mom, and so peaceful. I wanted you to open your eyes and smile back at me. To whisper I love you to me one last time, but that didn’t happen, and though it hurts, I know the end of this life isn't the end. You are with Jesus, our family who went before you, and best of all, you are healed.

I can’t say goodbye to you, Mom, and I won’t. Instead, I will keep your memory alive, I will dream about you, talk about each memory, and cry when I need to. This is a great loss for our family, and I won’t pretend like my world will ever be what it once was. It can’t be. You’re gone, and though my heart breaks with this realization, it also celebrates the fact that I was privileged to know you at all.

Thank you for loving me so well, Mom. I promise to hold that dear to my heart each day.

With Love Beyond Measure,

Your Ma