Happy Mother’s Day.
I wish you were here so I could tell you in person, but I’ll have to settle for this. I miss you so much, yes, even after all this time.
It’s still a little painful seeing all these Mother’s Day cards, commercials, posters and pop-up ads on the Internet. Advertisers can tie Mother’s Day into just about anything in an attempt to sell stuff.
You hear “Makes a great gift for Mom!” for everything from flowers to industrial machinery. I can’t see you driving a fork lift, but if you had asked, I would have done anything to get one for you.
I didn’t send any Mother’s Day cards this year. I know it’s nice to honor the mothers in my life besides you, but I let the time go by and then it was too late for snail mail, so I’ll have to make some phone calls.
I regret that now because you certainly taught me better, so I’ll make a point of doing a better job next year.
Your granddaughters, Kristen and Victoria, are getting bigger, maturing, which means I’m getting older. They’re so smart and beautiful; they amaze me. I know you would be so proud and I wish you could be around them and provide with the same unconditional love and boundless faith that you gave to me.
It’s a tough world and there’s nothing like a loving grandmother to take the edge off of some the disappointments we all must endure.
I want to apologize to you—once again—for every stupid, insensitive, mean-spirited, careless thing said I ever said or did to you.
I wish I could go back and erase all those words and actions, but if I had that kind of power, I’d use it to bring you back so I could apologize to you in person.
I’m still living in the house. We haven’t even thought about selling the place given the rotten economy and the crumbling housing market. I don’t want to sell, but I also need to move on, physically and emotionally because so much here reminds me of you and Dad.
I’m a little better with the crying, though every now and then I’ll have a memory of you and it’ll be so real, the tears will just pour out of me.
I don’t think that will ever change and I don’t think I want it to change. If I stop crying over you then I’ve probably lost a very large piece of my heart.
I try to remember all the things you taught me. I try to believe in myself, the way you believed in me. I try to be of good cheer, like you used to say, and I try to be up, up, up. I see the waste of toxic emotions, but it’s still hard to keep them in check.
The only thing you ever wanted was for all your children to be happy. I’m still working on that. I make a point of being thankful for the smallest things in my life while working toward getting the big prizes.
Every now and then I’ll think of you and become so upset, I’ll say to myself that it’s not fair—that you should still be here with us, guiding us, enjoying all the good things in life with us.
But you’re the one who told me that life is not fair and I know how lucky we were to have you with us for as long as we did. It just went by too goddamn fast. Excuse my language.
Just had a little crying fit right now, but I’m better. It kind of snuck up on me. It's funny; Aunt Marie pointed out to me yesterday that I cry at movies the way grandpa did.
“You’re a throwback,” she said and I felt rather proud.
I’m also proud to be your son and I’m going to do everything I can to make you proud of me. I’m sure you’d say that you already are proud of me, but I know that I have lots more to do to be the man I should be.
I miss you and I love you more every day. Now I’ve got to go make some phone calls.