A Letter to Heaven

 Dear Mom,

It’s that time of year again..December 10^th is a few days away and I can’t get you off my mind. I cannot believe you have been gone for 8 years. How has it been that long? At the same time, weren’t you just here yesterday?

Mom, I miss you so much.

We all do. Lots of people do. You’re my favorite topic of conversation. Surprising, huh? Some people have a hard time talking about a loved one who has passed..it’s too much for them..or they are a puddle of tears every single time..but not me. I talk about you so often, everyone at the house does too. I love that, Mom. It’s what you would have wanted.

I just want you to know, we are doing okay.

Life is really good right now. Really, really good. Can you believe two of your daughters are in college? Not only that, but following in your footsteps to become elementary education teachers, hoping to make a positive influence on as many kids as possible? Me either.

Abby is in her first year of college and killing it. I mean it, Mom, she is doing SO well. I know you are beaming with pride. She handles her classes and balances nannying these 5 children like a pro. Not many people would be capable of that, but she is, which I’m sure you already knew. She is still stubborn just like you. I remember that so well about you, and when I see it in Abby, it just makes me smile. She handles her diabetes amazingly. Sometimes I even forget she has to depend on insulin to live every single day. I know you are hoping for a cure just as much as we are, but until then, know she is doing just fine. She is seriously so grown up. That sounds cliché, but its true. I feel like even in the past 6 months, she’s grown tremendously, and we have bonded even more. It is so cool. You would love it if you were here. We share lots of the same memories of you, which is such a blessing. We can’t go to dairy queen without thinking about you ordering a chocolate cone dipped in butterscotch. We will be walking through a store, and something catches both of our attention, and we know that we both instantly thought of you. It is so cool, Mom. I’m sure you smile when that happens.

And Holly..she’s only 16, and about to graduate highschool. As a junior. This May. How unusual and plain awesome is that?! She has one semester left of highschool and she is doing just fine, combining her junior year and senior classes into one year. That’s not normal, Mom. She is clearly special, but you knew that since the day she was born, I’m sure. She is also growing up so quickly. I know I’m only a few years older but MAN. I see some of her classmates and I’m blown away with the comparision. She is also so good with children. Every weekend she’s somewhere watching some group of kids, making bank, and loving it. She’s just as strong willed and outspoken as she was as an 8 year old, the last you saw her. That creates some interesting (silly) fights between us girls, but they never last more than 5 minutes, which I’m sure makes you smile as well. Holly and Abby are both my best friends. I don’t think most siblings can say that and TRULY mean it. But I do. I can’t believe I was blessed with such supportive, honest, loving sisters. Thank you for raising us girls to invest time in one another and to be intentional.

Cole..what a little man. Really, he is so so so old! If you saw him now, Mom, you would probably just sob. He’s not your little boy anymore. The 4 year old who would sit on your lap and talk to you as if nothing was wrong during your last days on earth, is now a 12 year old soccer superstar. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit (sister problems), but I know you would consider him the same. He is so talented and so aware of it too ;) He is getting better at humility in sports and is such a good team player, unlike many boys his age. He is in his first year in middle school. MIDDLESCHOOL!! He was literally just a tiny preschooler, riding his mini john deer tractor around the yard. Now, he’s begging for a hover board, sneaking entire advent calendars full of chocolate, and an avid xbox lover (like way way loves it). I’m sure you’re shaking your head just thinking about how times have changed since you were last here on earth with us, Mom.

And me..I’m so happy. The happiest I’ve ever been, truly, which I’m sure you can see. I’m an adult now, which is so weird, but loving it. I’m looking into moving into my own apartment soon, and I am so ready and so excited. (I know Dad isn’t totally ready, and I’m sure you wouldn’t be either, but I need to learn on my own).  I’m making big girl decisions every single day, and balancing full time school, taking care of these 5 kids Abby and I nanny, and trying to find time to see my boyfriend too. Oh mom..you would love him. I know you would. I hate that you don’t know him, and that he doesn’t know you, but I know you’re looking down and so happy that your first baby girl is so well taken care of and so loved by such a godly young man. I always looked up to you and dad so much, how in love you were, how you put God first in your relationship, and always dreamed of having that. I finally know what it’s like, giving your needs up for someone else’s. I wish you could sit and talk with him. Hear his laugh. See how hard he works, see how much he shows me Jesus, see his beautiful smile. I can’t wait for you to meet him someday. What a joyous day that will be.

I just wish you were here.

Especially this time of year, I’m not sad really. I wouldn’t call it that. I’m just…bummed. If you were here, you could see Cole’s victory dance down the field when he scores a goal. If you were here, you could see how close me, Abby, and Holly are. If  you were here, you could see how well Stacy fits into our family-not taking your place, but making her own. If you were here, you could know our second wheaten terrier, Rosie. You loved Kipper so much, and had such a special bond. I know you would’ve loved Rose just the same.

If you were here, you would be sitting inside by the front door, telling Leah and I to unwrap the 3 strands of lights we just tightly wrapped around the tree, only to do it again. If you were here, you would see that exact tree being cut down this week, leaving an empty spot in our front yard. I know its just a tree, but I have memories tied with that tree. Memories of you and dad building this house, picking out what plants to grow and where to place them, watching that tiny little sapling grow over the years-and now its gone. Pulling up to the house last night and seeing a bunch of logs where that tree stood just a few hours earlier hit me deep. I wasn’t expecting it and didn’t quite know what to do. But I just feel a little empty inside.

I just want you to know that it was all worth it.

All the doctor waiting rooms, the awkward conversations, hospital visiting hours, wearing masks when we went in to see you so that we wouldn’t make you sick..It’s all okay, Mom.

For all the “normal” childhood activities that were always tainted with the word “cancer”. For all the afternoons where you couldn’t even get out of bed when we got off the bus. For all the serious conversations on the family room couch. For all the women in our house, taking over the role of Mom for a few days at a time. It is okay.

Our childhood was not normal. That is clear. But it was worth it. Because we got a few more years with you. The one who physically brought us into the world, who held our sick bodies, who forced us to eat salmon (still mad about that), who kept us safe, who made sure we always felt loved, who baked cookies right before we came home from school, who brought home the best dog in the world, who taught us Jesus. Our time was cut short, but it was enough. You were the best mom anyone could ever ask for. I promise I’m not just saying that. Yes, you had your moments, as you should. But Mom, you were so incredible. Anyone who knew you would agree. I want you to know I will never forget all you did for us. How hard you fought to get better for your children. How you showed us faith unlike any other.

I will never forget how you would turn on Mariah Carey’s Christmas album, grab the candlesticks from the mantle and sing into them like a microphone.

I will never forget how much you loved chocolate. Especially those truffles from trader Joes.

I will never forget how you couldn’t walk around the house without socks because your feet were always so cold.

I will never forget your love for Wendy’s fries dipped in a frosty or chili. Or how you drove all the way back one day after we got home because they forgot your fries in the drive thru line.

I will never forget your love for this time of year. How much you loved the garland around the staircase. How excited you were to give us our presents on Christmas morning. My love for Christmas comes from you, I’m certain.

I will never not think of you when I hear “Shackles” by Mary Mary…it instantly puts a smile on my face.

Lately, I’ve been told I look like you. That doesn’t happen too often usually, probably because my hair is so different than yours, but I guess my facial expressions have been just like yours lately. That is such an honor, Mom. You were the most beautiful lady I ever knew. To even slightly resemble you would be more than I could ever ask.

I can’t wait to tell my children about you someday. I know its far off, but I think about it. I think about all the little fun things you did with us, and I plan to do many with my own children. I promise Mom, they will always know who you were, and what you did to impact so many, including myself. My children will be able to talk about and bring you up as often as they want. It’s something I want more than anything.

I guess I should go now. I know you’re loving all the dancing and worshipping up there, and I can picture the beautiful smile that I know is on your face constantly.

Thank you for giving Abby, Holly, Cole, and I life and thank you for teaching us what it means to love Jesus with our whole hearts. I hope we make you proud for the rest of our days on earth. Love you, mama.