It’s as if the meaning and purpose of absolutely everything in my life has been suspended. It’s all up for review. I guess death has a way of doing that…making you evaluate your priorities. But this goes so much deeper. My foundation has taken a direct hit. I’ve realized that I’m not just mourning you.
I’m mourning my childhood.
You gave me such a great childhood, mom.
You loved so much to give us gifts! Christmas and birthdays were awesome. It was really, really good to be a kid in my house! You were so good to me, Mom. You made me my favorite foods all the time…cheese toast for breakfast, grilled cheese (not too burnt haha) and tomato soup, raviolis whenever I didn’t like what you made (more often than I care to admit, and I’m still so terribly sorry Mom :P), and when I was sick, you never failed to deliver on Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup with saltines. Speaking of sick, you even let us take “mental health” days off of school regularly. You genuinely loved spending time with us, and it showed.
Mom, we were talking about memories and some great ones about Dad came up, too! Remember when I wanted a bow and arrow set, so he took me into the woods near our house and we picked out some branches? We made a set together with carving knives.
Remember when Dad let me build that wagon to deliver newspapers when I got the paper route, even though he knew it was going to take me hours to walk the route? He let me get started, then he came along with the station wagon and rescued me from my misjudgment. That’s been the case for my entire life. You gave me the independence along with the responsibility, but you’ve both always been there to help and guide me. Always. I’m thankful that I haven’t had to ask often. But every time I did, you helped. You guided.
Thank you.
We are going home today. I’m not working this week. I can’t seem to go very long without crying. Not a good look at work.
This week wore me out.
I love you.
-R
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