Dear Mom,
I love you.
As I sit here, I can't help but think about all you do for me. Not only do I feel lucky to have a woman as amazing as you to be my role model, but I am also incredibly grateful that you are still here.
The other night as I sat talking on the phone with one of my childhood best friend's I made the comment that I missed you. After a pause, she replied, "I miss your mom too." It was at that moment I began to cry, just like I know you would.
These past few months I have started to find myself acting more and more like you each day. At times it is terrifying, but yet it brings me peace.
You are as stubborn as a bull and so am I. You refuse to let others tear down your family, and I am the same way. You say what's on your mind with no apologizes and so do I. Most importantly, you love unconditionally.
My friends call you “Mama Conn" and for that, I couldn't be more grateful. For those that don't have a mom, you become their mom, and you love them like they are your own flesh and blood.
I remember when I was younger and you would routinely need to go hours away for surgery. At the time I didn’t know what was happening and then one day you said to me, “I want you to know that you might be hearing the ‘C’ word and if you do it is okay." As a child, I didn't know what you meant, but you then you said it. The "'C' word" was cancer.
I was scared, and I was mad. No, not my mom. Why did it have to be you?
You told me not to worry. You were all better now. The surgery removed your cancer and now you would just need to go back for routine testing.
I don't remember if it was that day, or years later, but one day you told me something that to this day brings me to tears. You told me that when you went into surgery, you slipped a picture of my brother and me inside of your socks. The whole time you hoped the doctors wouldn’t remove your socks because then you would no longer be allowed to have our pictures with you.
At first, I just laughed, but then you told me about how scared you were going in. You didn't know what was going to happen and these pictures were your way of having my brother and me with you. You knew there was always the possibility that you wouldn't make it off that operating table and incase that happened you wanted us kids with you when you went to Heaven.
Long story short, you made it that day and years later I still have you. However, not everyone’s mom makes it off the operating table. Some have mothers who have lost their battle with the big C in their homes or in the bed of a hospital.
Today, as I celebrate Mother’s Day with you unpacking boxes in my new apartment, others will visit their mother’s grave. Some will be able to get out and walk up to it; others will not be able to exit the car and will look on as their family walks up to her.
You know this reality all too well as for years you have worked with the sick and dying. You have an understanding of the beauty of the human life like I’ve never seen before. For me, it took a conversation with a friend about the death of his mother to realize just how quickly life can be taken away. Each day as I walk out of my dorm, I see the house where his mother once lived and am reminded once again just how lucky I am to still have you.
You mother, are amazing. I’m sorry that I’ve often taken you for granted. I want you to know that I love you and I am so glad you are here. Helping me unpack is probably not how you wanted to spend Mother’s Day, but I am thankful that you are helping me anyway.
I love you, Mom.
Love,
Your Baby Girl
