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"A Letter To My Mom"

Our guest-writer this week is Laura McCommons from Orlando, Florida. After reading some of the letters we posted around our Walking Marathon to raise money for the American Cancer Society, Laura felt that she had a story to contribute as well.

Laura shares a heartfelt letter to her mother, who passed away from cancer a number of years ago. This is one of the more touching letters we have posted on the site.

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"Once someone passes out of the world of the physical and into the world of the spiritual, we can never physically experience them again the way we once knew. But we can always experience them and have them share in our lives by keeping their memories alive in our minds and hearts and by realizing that, as spiritual beings not limited to physical properties, they are more often around us than ever before. “

 

Dear Mom,

This past July 1st marked thirteen years that you have been gone from this Earth.

Thirteen years.

It’s unfathomable that I have almost lived as many years without you that I had with you. I can’t even begin to describe the mark you have left on my life. I decided to write this letter to you because I feel the only way for someone who has passed to truly live on is to talk about them and keep their spirit alive in your thoughts, your words and your cherished memories.

I know that I am the person I am today because of you. As tough as it was to endure your illness and to finally accept the reality that you weren’t going to beat the cancer, I am so very thankful that you were my mother. You taught me more in fifteen years than many people can in a lifetime. You refused to give in to the disease without fighting with every ounce of your being. You were so immensely brave and dignified at even your weakest moments. You showed me the true meaning of strength, courage and determination. Over the years, I have tried to emulate these qualities. I am sure you know, it wasn’t easy for me once you were gone. I didn’t realize exactly how amazing a mother you were, until I no longer had you in my life. You protected me, spoiled me, pushed me to succeed, celebrated my achievements, allowed me to grow but kept me close and raised me to think independently and never be afraid to take a chance.

I am told by so many how much I remind them of you. I look at your pictures at my age and the resemblance is uncanny. I have your bright blonde hair, expressive eyes and warm smile. I inherited your stubbornness and strong will, but also your desire to go out of your way to make those you love happy. I am pleased to know that so much of who you are is a part of me. In everything I do, I strive to make you proud. I know I have not always gone down the right path and I’ve stumbled here and there, but I hope when you look down on me today, you smile.

I have so many fond memories that at any given point I can replay them like a movie in my mind. I remember every day when I went to school, you would go in my room and put away all the “clutter” I had on my dresser and desk. Then when I would get home, I would open my drawers and take out all my knickknacks and put them back out on display where I thought they belonged. We would play this game for days on end, and it always amused me. I remember the day after you passed how badly I wanted to walk into my room to find those things put away just once more. It’s ironic how sometimes the littlest of things becomes one of the poignant memories.

Because of you, I feel the need to celebrate every holiday – to make Easter baskets for everyone, buy Halloween costumes for my cat and my boyfriend’s dogs and to max out my credit card to provide a Christmas for everyone that still would shame in comparison to the spectacle you would create. Christmas was always my favorite holiday with you. I was so excited the first year you let me actually help put ornaments on the tree, normally a ritual reserved for only you - because you had a place for every ornament – the cherubs, the bells, the lace, even the handmade ornaments us kids brought home all full of glitter and glue. It was incredibly difficult that first Christmas without you. I don’t think we even had a tree. I think Pops and I just had a simple dinner. I thought if I just pretended it was any other day, I wouldn’t have to deal with just how meaningless it felt without you.

I remember the overnight visits in the hospital when you were having your chemotherapy treatments. I would always come along and the nurses would let me sleep in the hospital bed next to you. Sometimes you would let me sneak down to the cafeteria and get a late night snack. It was strange how “normal” those sessions became – it was now just a necessary part of our lives. Up until you started losing your hair, most would never guess you were even sick. But even then – when your hair started falling out in clumps -which I imagine is one of the most traumatic experiences for a woman – you didn’t let it break you. You set out on a mission to get yourself a wig that was modeled like Heather Locklear’s hair – and we all soon affectionately called it your “wigwam.” When your hair started to grow back months later, it grew back darker and curly. Your oncologist had told us often when you lose your hair, it can come back how it was when you were a child. So you embraced your new “’do” and developed a fondness for stylish hats.

One of my last great memories of you was wheeling you out in your wheelchair to the pool deck at our house. You put your hand on my hand and said “I’m not going anywhere.” I choked back the tears because I knew nothing short of a miracle was going to save you at that point. You passed a couple of weeks later. But now when I look back on that moment, I realize you were right (as you often were). You haven’t gone anywhere. You are a part of each of your children, of your grandchild and namesake, Carol Jean, and of all the people who had the pleasure of knowing you as a friend, sister, aunt, mother, wife or colleague. You live on in me, and I hope to continue to make you proud of the woman I have become.

I know I will miss sharing many more pivotal life events with you, but what time I was able to share with you was more precious than I could ever express and I will always hold those memories very close to my heart.

I love you and miss so very much.

Laura

 

If you would like to donate to the American Cancer Society, please click here.

 

If you would like to comment on this letter, Laura can be reached at ufgatorgirl21@aol.com (please include your name and town).

To see Responses, Results and Reactions to this letter, click here.

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