The Letter

My Mom passed away April 27, 2021 at age 67. Far too young to be as sick as she was. She had been fighting Lupus for 10+ years. On top of that a life of smoking and alcoholism. I remember from a young age just knowing that smoking cigarettes was not going to be something that I would do. Alcohol, well…it’s the family vice on both sides. However, I think I manage that pretty well, and I know my limits.

I had no idea how badly she was doing because we never talked. It is both of our faults. I was so miserable living at home that when I finally moved out, I needed a break from her. I unfortunately took it way too far and stopped talking to her. I moved out of state for a couple of years and maybe only talked to her a handful of times on the phone. I was not a good son. Not at all.

I was hoping that when my wife and I started having kids that my Mom would step up, and want to be around more. She only saw my kids a handful of times. When she passed, my oldest son was 10 and he didn’t even know who she was. I would hear stories from family saying she would always talk about them. I know in her heart she really wanted to be a good Grandma. I was just extremely bitter and immature about the entire thing. I always told her she could come over whenever she wanted to. In hindsight, I realize that I just had to invite her over, and I was waiting for her to invite herself over. This is something that Mom would absolutely never do. I really blew it.

One night after work I received a frantic text from my cousin asking “Where are you?!” I didn’t know what she was talking about. The night before Mom had gone into renal failure and was dying in the hospital. Nobody called me and told me. Not even my step-dad. I drove up to the hospital and spent some time with her and talked to her, even though she was heavily sedated. I got to tell her that I loved her. That was the one thing I had to make sure she knew before she was gone. Then I said my goodbyes and left my mother in a hospital bed waiting to die. It was a long elevator ride down to the main floor.

The next day, she was gone. She was cremated right away, and requested to have no funeral. I still am not sure where here ashes went. Nobody bothered to tell me.

That was a long preface to the main story I would like to tell.

A month ago or so, my step-dad called asking me if I wanted to come over to the house and pick up some things that Mom wanted me to have. I knew there were some things in my old bedroom closet that I wanted to get, so I went over there.

There really is no nice way of saying this. Mom was a hoarder. The house was just full of junk. It looked like my step-dad wasn’t living there anymore, and he and his new bride were living elsewhere. So I said no to a lot of stuff. Things that she wanted me to have (like a gigantic hutch) that I told her years ago I didn’t want. My house is very small and full of my junk. I don’t need her junk too. So I packed some extremely dusty boxes and a few other odds and ends and got out of there. I couldn’t even get to the things I really wanted in my old bedroom because that room was inaccessible as it was full of Mom’s hoard.

When I was home I dumped all of the boxes in my family room and just skimmed through them a little. Lots of cool old pictures, my baby books, all sorts of history. I knew that I was just going through the fun stuff, and deeper in the boxes would be painful memories and who knew what else?

I had been ignoring the boxes for a long time. I really wanted to claim the family room back, but I was afraid to go through the boxes. My wife had offered weeks ago to help me go through the boxes and get rid of things and figure out what was worth keeping. So that’s exactly what we did the other day. I was not prepared for the emotional rollercoaster I was about to embark on.

For the record, I am an atheist. I don’t believe in god, the bible, ghosts, the afterlife or any of that crap. Never have, never will.

I was finding old letters in these boxes. My heart stopped when I saw a random envelope in the box addressed to me. I had a gut feeling I would find something like this.

Reluctantly I opened the envelope and pulled out the 2 page letter. It was undated. It was essentially an apology letter to me. It could have been written in the 90s. It could have been written the week before she died. I’ll never know. The letter was certainly written from the perspective of her already being dead. It really freaked me out.

She spoke of how much she always wanted a child (I am an only child) and how happy she was to have me. She talked about when she is gone, I will have to look around for signs for her, and she promised me I would see them. She was very spiritual.

I finished the letter, folded it back up, put it back in the envelope and told my wife “Ok, I am done with this project for today.” I went to my room and laid on the bed and wept. That letter knocked me flat on my ass.

I got up after I thought I got it all out of me. I sat in the recliner in the living room and thought to myself “If this isn’t one of her signs, then I’m not sure what is.” Just as that thought occurred to me I just straight up ugly cried for 45 minutes. There were sounds I was making as I cried that I have never heard come out of me before. That was very cathartic.

I believe that was part of the grieving process that I hadn’t reached yet, but it needed to happen. It opened my eyes a lot and I have been reflecting for the last couple of days. I need to do better, I need to try harder, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Life is fucking short and I still have so much more to do.

While I don’t believe in god, angels, heaven, or anything like that. I believe in my mom’s signs. I am going to start looking for them. They have probably been smacking me in the face this entire time, and I was too blind and bitter to even notice.

Love your family and friends, and tell them often. Empathy is crucial. The world is such a mean place. Please be kind. If you’re at odds with your parents, try to repair it if you think you will regret it after they’re gone.

Photo by Kate Macate on Unsplash