Posted by: Kathy | December 14, 2009

After a Year: A Letter to My Mom

Dear Mom:

Over a year has passed since we lost you to pancreatic cancer. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday when you were here with us. Part of me is still waiting for you to come back, like you’ve been on a long business trip or vacation. I’m waiting for that phone call saying “I’m home, I’ve missed you guys, let’s get together soon”. But my heart knows that this is not to be. I miss you. I miss your physical presence. I miss talking with you. I miss hearing the sound of your voice. I miss sharing my life with you.

I’m not the only one who misses you. I know Matt misses spending time with his grandmother, and even though Nikki doesn’t really remember you, she misses you because we do. She communicates with you by sending balloons into the sky and up to Heaven. I know Dad feels your loss mostly deeply out of all of us, and I wish there was some way I could bring you back for him. Your friends miss you too. A few of them recently told me what a wonderful person you were and that they miss you.

Your death, and death in general, is something I haven’t quite come to terms with yet. Your loss turned my world upside down, producing thoughts and feelings I never expected. But then again, your death was not expected at such a young age since both your parents and other family members lived into their 90s. You were always so healthy. I never expected pancreatic cancer to steal you from us.

I think about you every day. I look at your picture. I talk to you. I often wonder just where you are. I know that you’re in Heaven and at peace. But exactly where are you? Are you close? Are you far away? Do you visit us? Can you see us? Do you hear me when I talk to you? So many questions that will never have an answer while I am here on this earth. When I pray to God at night, I often ask Him to give you my love.

The thing that bothers me most about death is that you’re truly gone and that this is forever. You’re in a place where I can’t reach you. I have no idea where you are. I can’t have a conversation with you, or even know that you hear me. My feelings have not dulled with time. My love for you is strong; something that is here with me but can’t be shared with you anymore. You are still very much alive in my heart, even though you’re not physically with me.

You knew me in life as your daughter. I hope you knew how much I loved you then and still love you now. I never told you what a great impact you had on my life, but I didn’t fully come to this realization until after you were gone. I hope somehow you know how you’ve helped me to grow into the mother I am, and now are helping me to become the person I want to be.

Your time as my mother, as my kid’s grandmother, as a wife, as a daughter, and as a friend will never be forgotten. And although I am not ready to leave this earth, I am looking forward to being reunited with you again one day.

Love always,

Kathryn

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Responses

  1. I ran across your Tribute Blog to your mom while googling Lustgarten Foundation. I have lost my mom it was 10 years ago last May. I can relate to the loss of emptiness that you feel. My mom was an awesome mom and grandmother. I was 20 years old at the time and very naive to think that nothing could take my mom from me. She was only 56 years old and she was suppose to be around for when I had kids. I have a nine year old daughter and it pains me to no end that she is never going to get to know a love so kind and pure. I write letters to my mom to. In fact I wrote a letter to her and placed it with her. When I get to missing her really bad I write her letters and it does help. I work in the medical field as well. I’m a certified physician coder for an ER group and every time I see a patient that has been diagnosis with pancreatic cancer my heart goes out to them. I am glad that I stumbled across your blog. Even after 10 ten years the pain and the grief is still there and it hits me everyday when I wake up and realize that she is gone. I’ll pray for you and your family when my daughter and I say our prayers tonight. Thank you for sharing your experience.


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