Hey Mom,

I’m not really sure how to start this. I guess I’ll start with a safe question that never fails in awkward situations: How have you been? I’m sure you’ve been doing great, being surrounded by everyone you love and keeping tabs on all of us. We’ve been doing pretty well, too, Dad, Mary Jo, and me. Mary Jo and I are both in school and Dad is as busy as ever. We have a step-brother and a step-mother now. That's exciting. But you probably already know all that. I’m sorry I don’t come to visit more often. You have such a nice place under the trees. Hopefully, you can forgive me for that.

I’m on my way to finishing school and taking my next big step in life. It’s only going to take me five-plus years. Better late than never, right? It’s scary to think about stepping out into the world, especially with so many unknowns even with it being far-off. Any advice or wise words you want to pass along would be appreciated. I can only dream of tackling the world with such an adventurous and fearless spirit like you seemed to. As of now, my post-graduation plan is to move to New Orleans. I feel so at home there and have loved the city since I was a kid. Maybe I have you and Dad to thank for that since you took me to Jazz Fest as a baby. You and Dad met down there, right?

Another thing that’s strange is being asked if I’m your daughter. Granted, it’s usually people I know knew you who ask. It’s weird to think we look that much alike but it’s definitely a huge compliment. Comparing pictures of you as a kid to pictures of me when I was in elementary school is freaky. We could have legitimately been twins that were born 40-something years apart. Sometimes Gammie would accidentally call me by your name. Dad did the same thing once or twice. I can’t help but feel the smallest touch of guilt when that happens.

Oh! Fun fact: I have a good friend who takes flute lessons from Mrs. Cheeseman. She taught lessons at JA for a while, too. I got to tell her I was your daughter. Sometimes I wish I’d chosen to play flute instead of saxophone. That’s what I scored highest on when they tested us in sixth grade. Then I discovered color guard. But I still grew to love band and music like you did. I still have all your old Jimmy Buffett and Elvis CDs.

On a different note, I hope Mary Jo and I have made you proud and have grown into the daughters you dreamed of having. It’s hard to take someone else’s word for that. How can they really know, you know? It seems like one of those things people just say to make you feel better. I guess we just have to take a leap of faith and trust what everyone says. I have no idea what you dreamed we’d be like. I’d give anything to know. For now, I’ll just hope we’ve lived up to your expectations.

We’re going on 11 years now. But no matter how much time passes and the bad times we had as a family, I’ll always wonder what life would be like if you were still here. I’d hope we would be as close as you and Mary Jo were. Maybe we wouldn’t be; I’ll never know. At heart, I’ll always be a Daddy’s girl, though. I’m sure you could tell that from day one. But my logical side knows that growing up with you wasn’t likely. That’s another thing I feel guilty for.

Losing you has affected all of us in ways we’re still figuring out. I don’t think I fully reckoned with my feelings until last year and I’m still dealing with it. I think we all are. There were so many days I knew I had to be strong even though I really didn’t want to be. I don’t even know what clicked inside me after you were gone and made me step up to take care of Mary Jo, or attempt to. She really, really misses you, you know. Even though I’ll always wish things were different, that I could have done or said something something to make you stay and make you keep fighting, losing you has helped us grow into the strong young women we are today. I guess I should thank you for that. Although Mary Jo and I learned that life isn’t fair and that life is going to suck before it gets better, there’s no way I’d rather have it.

Going through old pictures of you with us always tells me one thing: you loved us with all your heart. I can always see it in your eyes and your smile. Besides my fading memories, the pictures are all I have left. I’d give anything to be able to see you smile again, to hear your voice, and watch you take forever to do your makeup. I’d love to see you and dad tell stories and watch you dance around the kitchen to Christmas songs like you did that one time. I’d love to be able to ask you what it feels like to fall in love, why boys can be so stupid, if my outfit looks okay, how to date, ask for makeup tips, and just be able to get to know you.

But the bottom line is – I miss you. Every minute of every day of every week of every year. There are always things I want to tell you, questions I want to ask you, and things I wish you could be here for. There always have been and there always will be as long as I live. Growing up without you was hard, especially as a teenager. God bless Dad for dealing with two teenage daughters. I still don’t know how he did it. But we’re all still here, just keeping on keeping on with a permanent minus one. The place has been filled by a wonderful woman but no one will ever be able to replace you as my mother.

There are lots of things I’ll never know about you, about having a mother, being a mother, and all that jazz. But I do know you’re one awesome guardian angel. It took me a few years to realize you were the one making sure I made it through close brushes in traffic, late night walks on the streets, and generally escaping all the stupid situations I’ve put myself in. Thank you for that, too. I also know you are dearly loved by so, so many. Believe me, when I say you’re just as dearly missed. You always will be. But I’ll carry your spirit in my heart for as long as I live, you can count on that.

So I guess I’ll stop there for now. I could write for days and still not cover everything I want to say. I’m not even sure I could do that. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to hug you again, see you smile, exchange stories with you, and tell you everything. Honestly, I look forward to that day. Until then, rest easy, my angel.

If you're reading this and are one of the lucky ones who still has their mother, hug her a little tighter next time you see her. You never know when a see you later will be goodbye.