My mom and me
Below is a letter I wrote to my mom for a project called Dear Mom that was turned into a book with limited availability and a play for a short time. I wrote it in 2014.
Dear Mom,
As a baby, you nurtured me. When I was born only six pounds and was rapidly losing weight, threatened with being put back into the hospital, you sweetly stuffed me with food to keep me in your arms at home. As a child, you taught me how to read and write; the very two things that have become my passion. You taught me how to smile the same smile that you have, and laugh. And yes, you taught me how to love. Quietly.
As a teenager, you nurtured me again. When I was enveloped in pain from scoliosis, lying with my face buried in my pillow, you would massage my sore back with your arthritis fingers so I could fall asleep. After the surgery to correct my spine, you took care of me every second of every day. I felt a lot of pain, shed tears, and had many bad days, but you were there for it all.
Moving with a rod screwed into my spine was very difficult at first. Walking to the mailbox would drain my energy, but you walked with me to help me build my strength, gently pushing me to go a few steps farther each time. You slathered ointment onto my sensitive scar and even shaved my prickly legs.
Throughout my teenage years, we moved many times because we didn’t have the money to stay in one place, but you kept a roof over my head no matter what. For awhile, I didn’t have a bed to sleep on, but I always had a room to sleep in, and that is all thanks to you. You did what you had to do to keep me sheltered and to keep food in my belly, even walking to work in the blaze of Florida heat.
As a young woman, you taught me to never give up. When I left high school, you never made me feel like a failure. You helped me to keep my chin up and push for the future that we both knew I could have.
Although I am older now, you still do so much for me. You understand me and the situation I am in that is keeping me locked in place, like a ballerina stuck on a jewelry box. You are content with helping me until my true destiny decides to kick in. Whenever it does, you are happy waiting with me. And you are the best passenger I could ask for!
In a million years, I will never be able to pay you back for all you have done and are still doing for me. If you weren’t you, I would be lost. You are my writing buddy, my healer, and my friend. Someday, I hope to be able to do for you what you have done for me. After all, you raised me into the woman I am today, and for that I am so very thankful.
Love,
Your Quietly Loving Daughter
In that letter I said, "Someday, I hope to be able to do for you what you have done for me." When I found this shortly after she passed away and read that, I cried, because I had been given that chance. I wouldn't have wanted it to happen that way (never in a million years would I have wanted her to get lung cancer), but I was able to do for her what she had always done for me. I cared for her in every way I knew how, in every way I could. And I loved her deeply. I believe she was my soulmate. She used to call us two-peas-in-a-pod, and we were. We were writing buddies and best friends.
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| Left: My mom, Right: Me |
My mom
Me
Below is a poem I wrote for my mom when I was sixteen. Published years later on May 3, 2013.
The Angel
Is this what I’m seeing?
An angel with delicate wings spread out as wide as the seas?
She did not speak but I could hear her singing loudly,
she smiled at me and it seemed to touch my soul.
If a smile could be measured in feet, hers would be too long to beat.
She could take away my pain day by day,
she could take me away from this never-ending story, but she didn’t.
She only fluttered her wings in the golden light surrounding us.
I wanted to cry but I was too scared to cry,
I wanted to hide but I wanted to be found,
all she did was wait as if she were waiting for the end of time.
So I waited too, I waited for God’s light to lift me up,
I waited for the angel to hug me tight, but she never moved.
Her beautiful feet never touched the ground,
her young face never turned around,
her graceful arms never lifted a pound.
She was still, as still as anything can get,
but her voice grew louder in the distance as the light grew brighter.
Then she stretched out her perfect arm and opened her hand,
extending her long delicate fingers, she spoke, “Take my hand.”
Her hand felt icy but hot, her voice sounded happy but mad,
her hair was still but blowing in the wind madly,
she was everything all put together.
Her singing stopped but her smile grew louder.
She lifted me up from where I sat and filled my heart with joy,
she took me away to Heaven, but was it really Heaven?
I didn’t feel hurt or tired anymore.
No runny nose made me sniffle, no cough made me gasp,
no sneeze made me wheeze, but my eyes filled with tears.
I didn’t know what was happening until the rain fell from my eyes,
and I could see that the angel holding my hand up in Heaven
was my mother holding my hand in bed.
Below is the inside of a Mother’s Day card I gave to my mom in 2009. Every word is true today. And will remain true forever.
I don't know what my life would have been like
if I hadn't had you to comfort me, to advise me, to encourage me,
to write with me, and to love me.
You've played such an important part in making me the person I am today.
I can't tell you how much it means, and has always meant,
to know that you're there for me...
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
