Dear Mom,
This letter is for you. You always encouraged me to express myself through writing. As a child, I would share my wild and colorful dreams with you over breakfast, and you would say, “You should write these down, Jennifer.” Your support inspired me to keep a journal when I danced in France at sixteen and another during my summer travels abroad. I remember feeling that I had so many incredible stories to tell, but I struggled to find the time to write them down. I even began a journal titled “A Year in the Life of a Bride” to share my thoughts leading up to my wedding day. Sadly, after just a few entries, I set it aside, too frustrated to continue. That’s why this blog means so much to me—it doesn’t have to be a grand novel or a filled journal; it’s just one thought, one day captured.
It’s been a month since you returned home, and I miss seeing you daily. Yet, I find solace in knowing you are where you need to be now. Over the past two years, I’ve watched you climb an immense mountain, and I was right there with you, fully aware that reaching the summit was not in the cards. You’ve taught me a profound lesson: there was never false hope. We both knew that “forever” wasn’t an option; all we could hope for was more time together, and that was enough.
You have always chosen to climb over resting. You fought valiantly throughout your life, facing challenges head-on, sacrificing for those you love, and finding joy in your many talents. It is heartbreaking that this cruel disease has taken its toll. But as you take a moment to look back, I hope you see the breathtaking view from your climb. Now it’s time for you to rest, my dear mama. I hope you find peace in that.
Yesterday, I cleaned the house in preparation for my upcoming trip. I could feel your presence in every task. I wanted to ensure the laundry was done and the house was tidy for Adam (my husband), who often struggles while I’m away. I wanted our guest to feel comfortable without worrying about where things were. It’s something I might have overlooked before, perhaps due to selfishness or simply being too busy. Losing you has made me realize the significance of these small gestures and how much they matter.
I baked banana bread for you, unsure if you would recognize it or even me. I’m so grateful we took the time to share your baking secrets before the tumor interfered. It took me nearly two years to perfect your recipe. It may not be the best, but it brings back memories of home and you. I’ll feel your presence with every bite I take. I remember waking up to the smell of fresh banana bread, fighting with my sister over the end piece, while you would come in and cut the other end off. Such simple moments now hold so much meaning.
I tried to prepare myself for the possibility that you might be asleep during my visit or not recognize who I am. Thankfully, you woke up for a few moments. Your nails needed a little pampering, so I treated you to a manicure and pedicure. Growing up, you never spent money on such luxuries for yourself, yet you always managed to have pretty hands and feet. Over the years, you slowly began to appreciate these little indulgences. Some of my favorite memories are from our trips to the nail salon, which started for special occasions and evolved into bonding time with your daughters and granddaughters. I’m grateful to have helped keep your nails beautiful in these last two years, knowing this might be our final time together.
You tried to say “I love you” today; it has become a challenge lately. Each morning, I would wait to hear you say it first, knowing a good day was ahead if you did. Some days, I had to say it first, and you would echo my words. Today, I told you not to say it because I already know how you feel. You looked relieved but also sad. I’m sad, too, Mom. I’m heartbroken that this disease has taken so much from us, robbed us of time, and left me scared of a future without you. But I feel your love, and I will carry it with me always. I promise to teach Lily, Mason, and our newest addition how to make your famous banana bread, hoping it brings them closer to you, just as it does for me.
I hope there’s a moment when Dad can read this to you, and that some of my words will resonate. I know you would cry if you could. We’ve always been emotional, you and me. I’ve spent my life chasing my dreams, just like you. What I’ve finally realized is that it’s not about reaching the top; it’s about how we navigate the climb. That, my dear mom, is your legacy—the most important lesson you’ve passed on to me. You know you are loved, and I hope you understand just how special you truly are.
In Summary
In summary, this letter is a heartfelt tribute to a mother’s enduring love and influence. It reflects on memories of shared moments, the struggle against illness, and the importance of family bonds. The author expresses gratitude for the lessons learned and the love that will continue to resonate through generations.