A Message To My Mom


Eleven years ago today, we said goodbye. It wasn’t planned or expected. But it was time …

You were in a sterile room, motionless on a hospital bed with lines and tubes providing medical comfort, the beep of monitors beside you, offering assurance of your existence. I talked to you, knowing you weren’t able to respond, yet confident you could hear me. I sang to you, the ABC song you taught me when I was young: “A” you’re adorable, “B” you’re so beautiful, “C” you’re a cutie full of charm. I could almost hear your voice matching mine as we went through the alphabet, together.

Then a quick blink—your soft lids opened and your crystal blue eyes held mine for a few seconds, enough to let me know we were and always would be connected.

We gathered around, your six children who would carry your spirit and memory to future generations. We knew Dad had been waiting for you for too long, and I imagined him holding out his hand, softly humming your song, “Only You.” 

As we said goodbye, holding you as you had held each one of us, we were filled with sorrow, and we promised to honor your life, your strength, your courage, and above all, the love you so generously shared with everyone who had the privilege of knowing you.

From our arms to his … together again.