January 10, 2009

Dear Mom,


Today has been really hard for me. I think I’ve finally come to realize that you’re not coming back. You’re not just off on some trip for months at a time, but I’ll really never see you again, not in this life, not in your body. It has completely turned my world up-side-down. I thought you’d always be there, that we’d be the little old ladies, one ancient, one moderately old, living together long after their husband’s have passed on. I never imagined I’d lose you this year, or next year, or even five years from now. I thought you’d live forever and the thought of going on without you is . . . impossible. How can you be gone? You were a giant: impregnable and neverending. It seems impossible to have you suddenly disappear from my life, as if your passing happened to another person.

I’m not dealing with it very well. I really don’t know how. You would think having grown up without a father would have made it easier to lose my mother, but I think it’s made it more difficult still. I have no one else to turn to, no parent figure who is wise and all knowing to give me advice. There was only you and now I’m alone. It’s inconceivable. I still expect you to pop your head in the door of my den with some funny e-mail you received from a friend, or to hear the phone ring and your voice to be on the other end. This enduring silence hurts more that nearly anything.

The boys miss you. Birdie frequently tells me how much he misses you, but Teeny feels the loss even more, I think. Every time we speak of you he hangs his head and when he looks at me I see tears in his eyes. You were like a second mother to him and it’s another loss in his short life. I only hope it won’t be one too many. Keep an eye on him, would you? He needs you even more than I do, I think.

Birdy’s sick tonight. He got some kind of stomach gumbo and was throwing up. the Bishop came over and helped Gary give him a blessing. He fell asleep shortly thereafter and I’m hoping he’ll feel better by morning, though I already called my people and let them know I wouldn’t be to church tomorrow. I just can’t go and face another week of judgment from K. It makes it hard to be around her, knowing she thinks so little of me. She doesn’t seem to have the compassion or understanding I need right now, though she does know how to kick my butt into doing something more. I wish it hadn’t taken her, and I especially wish I didn’t resent it so much, but at least the girls are getting some of what they need now. I wasn’t doing anything for them. I love them, but sometimes that’s just not enough. They need structure, organization, and activities as well. I guess I can only do what I can do, but I hope I can find some answers and do it better in the future.

Gary’s pushing me to get some medicine for my depression. He thinks I’ve been depressed in general throughout my life and haven’t gotten help for it. He may be right, but it’s something I hate to admit and I hate taking pills. I’m just desperate enough to consider it though. Just desperate enough to try even though I’m afraid it will interfere with the creative process. I guess with the Lord all things are possible and maybe I can do two things. One, pray and ask for his help when I am writing, then sit down and write, and two, pray to know if I should take medicine or not. All I know is that I need help and I’ll do whatever I have to to feel better. Living like this stinks.

I really am beginning to think these letters were a good idea. I couldn’t hardly wait to get home and write them tonight. I spent a lot of time talking to Gary and he helped me see a few things and feel some good things, but when he went to bed I came out here to write to you. No World of Warcraft or matching games. Just some time alone with an empty page and my mother. Even though I was overwhelmingly depressed today, I think part of it was because of opening myself up to you on the page last night. I took the lid off the pot and couldn’t put it back on. I don’t think I should, really. I think the lid needs to stay off and I need to deal with your death. I’m not sure how, but I get the feeling that the answers will come as I write my way through them. At least I’m headed in the right direction.

You know, the biggest regret I have about the timing of your death is that you won’t be there when I finally see success in my writing. I know you believed in me so much that you didn’t need to see it happen to know that it would, but I would have loved to share that moment of success with you knowing that we were both achieving a lifelong dream of publication. I know it shouldn’t matter, but it does. You have always been my biggest cheerleader and the time you spent with me letting me read entire books to you is time I will forever treasure, especially the last reading of The Sapphire Flute. Sharing those tears as we read though the revised ending was a precious, precious moment. I’ll miss being able to do it with book number two and three and twenty-seven. I only hope that you can help inspire me from the other side and put a fire under my bum to get them written. I guess you’ll get to see them from the in-side-out now, won’t you. I hope you can be proud of me. I want to know I’ve done well by you and Daddy.

I wish I could talk to you face to face. I feel you near every now and then, though not as much lately. I know you’ve got other family who probably need you more and I’m selfish to want you with me all of the time, but you were my whole world for so long I miss having you near. Death is a rather abrupt way to get me to finally grow up, don’t you think?

Well, I’m not sure what more to tell you about. You already know everything that’s going on, but it helps me to send the word out to you in whatever form I can. It’s too bad it has taken my losing you to finally understand how important it is to care about family. They come first. I get that now. Thank you for teaching me in whatever forms you did. The message stuck, I just didn’t get it until now. Give Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa a hug and kiss for me. Let them know I love and miss them too and let them know what’s going on with me if they don’t know already. How grateful I am to know that families are forever. Thank you for accepting the gospel when it came your way, Mom. It is one of the two greatest blessings in my life.

Love for all eternity,

Karen