Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s been quite a while since I reached out, and I often wonder what you might know or have heard. So much has happened, and I hardly know where to start. A few summers ago, I married my partner, Jake, and then on November 11, 2012, I saw that first positive pregnancy test. My heart raced with the thought, “Oh my gosh, it worked!” I picked up the phone to share the news with you, but then I hesitated. You should have been the first to know that you were going to be grandparents, but that moment felt bittersweet without you.
The first trimester was rough on me. Although you couldn’t have taken away my morning sickness, Mom, it would have been comforting to have you there to drive me to the midwife or pick up my medication. I still remember that one awful night when I was so nauseous, just like when I was a little girl, needing you to hold my hair back. But you weren’t there.
Labor with Lily lasted almost 24 hours. I waited until the last minute to go to the hospital because I feared they would send me back home. I had no experience, but you did, Mom. Dad, you were by her side through it all. You could have told Jake it was time to go, to get me to the hospital—especially since home had already seen so much pain. But I didn’t hear from you.
In case you didn’t know, everything turned out fine. There were no complications, and delivering Lily was one of the happiest moments of my life. But just days later, I looked into her eyes and saw so much of you, Mom, and I broke down. Did you know that? Lily had severe jaundice, and we had to take her to the NICU. Although we went home a few days later, I could have really used your support. You never came to visit.
Watching Lily grow and reach new milestones has been so incredible. You should have seen her take her first steps; she was just in awe of herself. But it was heartbreaking when she started recognizing family members, and you weren’t there. You’re her grandparents! You’re my parents! Do you have any idea how much that hurt?
Soon after, I found out I was pregnant again—a bit sooner than we planned, but we were thrilled. I worried about having two little ones under two. I know there’s a big gap between my brother and me, but I would have loved to discuss it with you both. Perhaps you could have offered to help while I adjusted to life as a mother of two.
During my 20-week appointment, we had the ultrasound tech write down the baby’s sex and put it in an envelope. I wanted to share that moment with you both, but instead, Jake and I opened it in a special spot—the healing garden atop the Yawkey Building. Did you know that, Mom? Jake yelled it into the skies. Did you hear? You were getting a grandson! I wanted to joke about passing down that baseball glove you gifted me when I was 11. You could have played catch with Noah just like you did with me. Did you know I named him after you?
The kids call you Grandma and Grandpa. We look at your photos daily and say “hello.” Lily says you’re “up in the blue sky” watching over her and Noah. Did you see all those moments when I needed you? I don’t want you to feel guilt about it, though. I should clarify something.
Mom, I called Aunt Lisa when I first saw that pregnancy test. We reminisced about how ecstatic you and Dad would have been and how great you both were with kids. Aunt Maria was there when I couldn’t keep anything down and rubbed my back, apologizing that it wasn’t you. Lisa came by during my labor and held my hand before we rushed to the hospital. And my mother-in-law, Sarah, was there in the delivery room with me when Lily was born, telling me you were there in spirit. Maria even brought us coffee during our NICU stay with Lily. And Jake? He’s the angel you sent into my life. I know that.
They can never replace you, but they have made things a little easier. Some days flow smoothly, while others feel utterly devastating without you. I will ensure my children know how extraordinary you were as parents and the love you had for them. I won’t tell them how difficult it must have been for you to envision these moments while you were still here. Did you know how hard this journey would be without you? Were you upset that illness took you away before you could meet my husband and your grandchildren?
Sometimes, my laughter echoes your own, Mom, so my kids get to hear you. And Dad, I find myself breaking into silly dances like you used to, allowing my kids to play with your spirit. It was never going to be easy doing this without you both, but I take it one step at a time. I talk about you often and think about you every day. But I wanted to ask you something—did you know all of this?
Love,
Samantha
Summary
In a heartfelt letter to her deceased parents, Samantha reflects on the joy and challenges of motherhood without their presence. She recalls significant moments in her parenting journey, expressing her longing for their support and love. Despite the absence of her parents, she finds comfort in family and friends, ensuring her children know about the incredible legacy left behind.