An Honest, Open Letter to My Mom on Her “Death-versary”



Dear Mom,

I’m writing this letter through cyberspace in hopes that you’ll be able to read it from Heaven, gathered around beautiful angels like yourself.

Every time I allow myself to express my feelings through typing out words that come directly from my heart, I allow myself to heal, even just a little bit.

On days like today, I feel as though my life is split in two. A life with you, and a life without you. A previous life where I could wake up and hug you, could call you whenever I want, could be irresponsible and go shopping with you, could get my nails done or go to the beach with you, could look out in the audience at my cheerleading competition or dance recital and see you cheering me on, or could decorate the house for Christmas with you…. and then there is the life I am living now.

A life where these things physically are not possible. That’s not being pessimistic, that’s being realistic. And I allow myself to feel realistic, especially today. I’m not pretending. I’m not worrying about “staying strong,” I’m not worrying about putting my makeup on, having my shit together, or making sure to please others by staying extra positive when I don’t feel like it.

This is what I’m doing instead… I’m being honest with myself. I woke up today and had a hard time getting out of bed, but I did it. I met Courtney and Nicole and Aunt Bobbie for breakfast, got flowers for you, and went to visit your grave. I then forced myself to drive back to school so that I could come to my classes for the day. It sucked driving back, but I did it. As you know, I’ve never skipped a class, and although I came very close to doing so today, I told myself this..

My mother did not work her ass off at an average of 80 hours a week so that I would cop out of going to classes, especially, when I worked so hard to have the money to pay for this education.

You raised me better than that. You raised me to be independent.. to not be a woman that needs a man, but to be a woman a man needs. You raised me to be kind and generous.. to always give to others, even if it was all I had. You raised me to make everyone feel special.. every conversation I have with someone is all about making them feel like the only person in the world. You raised me to live every day like it was my last and not sweat the small stuff, because life. is. too. damn. short.

A woman like you.. so amazingly loving and cheerful and hardworking and strong and generous and selfless and beautiful… gone, taken from Earth, after only being here for 52 years? Yeah, life is too short.

I cry. I cry because you weren’t there for my high school graduation or prom, you won’t be there for my college graduation, my wedding, to meet my children, or to see me open my own yoga studio.

I cry because you won’t be able to meet Pete.

But, then I remember.. you sent Pete to me. You were there for my high school prom and graduation, you will be there to see me graduate college and you’ll be clapping from up above. You will be at my wedding, and I can’t wait to look up after my husband and I share our first kiss together, knowing you have the best view out of everyone. And although my children won’t be able to physically talk to you, or hug and kiss you, you bet they will know everything about you. How amazing you are and how amazing you always will be. You will be present in my life and my future family’s life ALWAYS.

You see, a person like you doesn’t come around every single day. And I’m not just saying that. And anyone reading this.. they know it too. You were different. You are special. You are a light to the darkness, and your light touches everyone who knows you, still to this day, even after you are “gone.”

That’s just the thing though.. you aren’t gone. You never were. I bring up your name, I bring up your actions, your words, your thoughts, your gifts, your hugs, your kisses, your laugh, your love, your life…. I bring it all up. Every chance I get, because you are here and you are in my life.

So, here’s to having the best mom ever. In my life.. in my entire life. Maybe only 16 years physically, but forever and always *spiritually.*

Love always,

Your daughter April


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