Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s been ages since we last connected. I’m not even sure what you’ve been keeping up with lately. So, where to start? A few summers back, I married Jake, and on November 11, 2012, I saw that first positive pregnancy test. I thought, “Wow, it actually happened!” My first instinct was to call you and share the news that you were going to be grandparents, but I hesitated. Did you know that? It was tough not to let that dampen my joy.
The first trimester was a real rollercoaster. Even though you couldn’t have magically made the sickness vanish, Mom, having you around to drive me to the midwife or the pharmacy for my medication would have been so comforting. I needed you there one particularly rough night when I was clinging to the toilet bowl, sick as a dog. Just like when I was a little girl, you weren’t there to hold my hair back.
I endured nearly 24 hours of labor with Mia. I waited a long time before heading to the hospital because I was terrified they would send me home. I didn’t know what to expect. You’ve been through this, Mom! Dad, you were right there with her. You could have told Jake it was time to rush me to Boston, sparing me the pain in a house filled with so many memories. But not a word from you.
Everything turned out just fine in case you missed it. No complications, and the moment Mia was born was filled with joy. But just days later, I noticed Mia’s eyes looked so much like yours, Mom, and I broke down in tears. Did you know that? Mia had a bit of jaundice, and we had to head to the NICU. We got out a couple of days later, but I could have really used you both during that time. You never came to visit.
Watching Mia grow and hit those milestones has been an indescribable joy. You should have seen her take her first steps—she was in awe of herself! It was tough, though, when she started recognizing family, and it wasn’t you two who she was used to seeing. You’re her grandparents—my parents! That realization was heartbreaking for me.
Then I found out I was pregnant again—quicker than we planned, but we were excited. I had concerns about managing two kids under two. Maybe you wouldn’t have had much advice since my siblings and I are spaced out, but I would have loved to chat with you about it. Perhaps you could have offered help while I adjusted to the chaos of motherhood with two little ones.
At my 20-week ultrasound, the tech wrote down the baby’s gender and sealed it in an envelope. I dreamed of opening it with you both there, but instead, Jake and I went to the healing garden at the Yawkey Building—one of the last places I visited with you, Mom. Did you see us? We discovered we were having a boy! Jake shouted it up to the sky. Did you hear? Dad, you’re getting a grandson! I wanted to share a laugh about that Bo Jackson glove you gave me when I was 11, and imagine you playing catch with little Ben just like you did with me. Did you know I named him after you?
The kids call you Nana and Papa. We look at your picture daily and say “Hi.” Mia believes you’re “up in the blue sky” watching over her and Ben. Did you know how many times I wished you were here? That I needed you both? But I don’t want you to feel guilty about it. Let me explain a few things.
Mom, I called Auntie Sarah when I first saw that pregnancy test. We reminisced about how thrilled you and Dad would be and how incredible you both were with us kids. Auntie Lisa drove me to get that prescription when I couldn’t keep any food down. She rubbed my head and apologized for not being you. Sarah showed up to help while I labored and held my hand before we raced to the hospital. My mother-in-law, Emily, was in the delivery room when Mia was born, assuring me that you were there in spirit, Mom. Lisa even brought us coffee while we stayed at the NICU with Mia. And Jake? Well, he’s the angel you sent me. I know that.
None of them can take your place, but they sure make things a bit easier. Some days I sail through just fine, while others feel like the weight of the world without you. I promise I won’t let your memories fade. My kids will know how extraordinary you both were and how much you cared for them. I won’t tell them how hard it must have been for you to think about these moments while you were still here. Did you realize how tough this would be for me without you? Were you upset that illness stole your chance to know my husband and kids?
Sometimes, my laughter mimics yours, Mom, and my kids get to hear you. Dad, I catch myself breaking into silly songs and dances like you used to do, so my kids get to play with your spirit. It’s never going to be easy navigating this journey without my own parents, but I’m taking it one day at a time. I talk about you often and think of you daily. So, I’m curious, because I never hear from you. Did you know all of this?
Love,
Claire