The world is still going crazy. The government is ridiculous. People believe crazy things and the politicians making crazy promises and I apologize to you. I apologize about some of the things you used to ask me to question and for my stubborn stance. You were right.
I want to see you so badly. I want to talk with you. I want to take a hike somewhere. I would love to hear your opinions about the current presidential race. I need your arm around my shoulder. I need to brew us a cup of tea. I need you to make fun of my television shows. I need your critique about my paintings -there are so many you have not seen.
I wonder how you would be wearing your hair and what you would be doing now. Would you be teaching somewhere, involved in a post-doctoral program or earning a bicycle at New Belgium Brewery?
I don’t understand how things have come into being without you being here.
I can’t believe you have never met the youngest craziest dog in our pack.
I don’t know what I thought would happen with time. I keep going through the motions and I live and even have new adventures. There are real moments of joy because I love your sister and your dad and we support each other. Your dad, your sister and you are my home.
I still don’t know what to do.
There is nothing to be done for it.
I even stopped writing to you because I hate that I get no answer.
The red tail hawks come circle above me on these warming spring days and I wish I believed in signs. Regardless I tell them hello and thank them for coming by.
I am exhausted by the changes around me and the changes that age brings and the lack of change in the way I feel.
I am so thankful (and that sounds so strange) that I have so much I miss about you. I do the missing in many different ways and I’m not really good at any of it.
I don’t want to have to miss you. I really would rather be taking you for granted. (Sad truth in that sideways joke). I would like to have my concerns for you to distract me from this sorrow.
It is Spring and you, as ever, should be here. I’ve got hours and hours of things to say to you or hours and hours I would love to spend quietly with you but there is a mountain of snotty tissues beside me and saying anything more would just be repetition.
I love you. I love the memories I have of our time as mother and son. Oh sweet pea I love you so much.
Oh — I feel every word that you have written. I lost my beautiful 32-year-old daughter almost 3 years ago. There is so much I want to talk to her about… You wrote: “I keep going through the motions and I live and even have new adventures. There are real moments of joy because I love your sister and your dad and we support each other.” That is my life, as well. I’m not very good at understanding how I am feeling. Thank you for putting it into words for me.
I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for writing.
Please don’t stop writing. The world and I need you words. Love and tears from a mother who lost her only…
I so very sorry for your loss. I wish I could do more than write. . .
Yes, Spring is here and there is so much to talk about, so many conversations that I also wish I were having with my daughter Julia. Oh, I talk out loud, but like you I want to hear my child’s voice answer. I want to ask her questions and hear what she has to say.
I understand when you wrote “I am so thankful (and that sounds so strange) that I have so much I miss about you.” I believe this is as true as it can get as there is thankfulness in feeling so much love for someone to miss them so absolutely and completely. Like you, I am trying to enjoy what I can with my other children, but gawd, the missing is just plain awful.
Thank you for writing. I don’t think you realize what a comfort it is to hear another mother’s heart.
A big hug to you and your other children. I hope the season treats you well.
Thank you and to you as well.