Dear Mom,

Five years has gone by without you and your absence is still greatly felt. A lot has happened since you were taken from us.  

In the beginning, I was so lost without you. I’ve never felt so much despair and sadness. I couldn’t navigate through the darkness and I allowed myself to sink into this abyss. I know you would have wanted me to continue to be strong, but without your light, I just couldn’t. You were my number one cheerleader. You were always in my corner. You were my calm when I was frantic, my personal zen that brought me to center.

You were my daily morning phone call, my lunch catchup date, and my 3:15pm drive home chat. You were my nightly “I love you” and my everything in-between those times I didn’t verbally speak to you.

You brought me into this world, and held my hand through all my milestones. You encouraged me to be myself and even though I wasn’t the actual cheerleader you wanted me to be, you still supported me in all the sports I was involved in. You dealt with my feisty attitude and accepted that I wasn’t a “sweet girl.” You loved my determination, spontaneity, and adventurous side.
You tried to act upset when I came home with my tongue pierced and my first tattoo, but years later you confessed to me that you envied me for having the guts to do it, and that you secretly liked them. Then, on your 53^rd birthday, I took you to get your first tattoo.

28 years of beautiful memories, but I wanted and needed 28 more.

I struggled through the darkness after you left. I fought to wear a smile. I cried so much I felt as if I were drowning in the number of tears welling up on my pillow. 

I was a shell of a person. Nothing made sense. Nothing seemed like it ever would.

Depression surrounded me like a partially soundproof, translucent, glass box. I knew I was struggling, but I honestly didn’t realize how deep I was in this abyss of despair. There were so many days and nights that I would sit in the bathtub, take my Xanax and wash it down with two bottles of wine. I vocalized to my then partner, that if I never came out of that tub I would be fine with it. The pain would go away and I wouldn’t have to feel this giant void ripping my heart apart.

Losing you was the most gut wrenching pain I had ever felt in my life. I had a counselor for two years who tried to help me, but I didn’t know how to manage this new life without you, even with the extra help.

I truly didn’t want to be on this earth any more.

My marriage ended. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t myself. I was in the darkest place I had ever been. I was so scared not knowing my path anymore. I needed your love and strength so desperately that I sank deeper and deeper into my depression.

As the days moved on without you, I slowly emerged from the fog. I learned how to cope a little better. I knew in my heart that I wanted to be on this earth. I had my brothers and I had daddy. I couldn’t’ leave them and I didn't want to. Plus, I had your grandbabies, my little loves, to be there for. They have given me the most strength through all of this.  I also didn’t know it then, but I was soon to have my own little one to bring into this world who would need me. 

You were taken from us just shy of three months before your third grandbaby, Sayda, was born. You were so excited to meet her. We can all see your essence beaming from within her. She is full of kindness and sass, and has the biggest heart like you. She can’t help but talk to everyone she meets, and ask them millions of questions. She is her NaNa’s granddaughter through and through. Zeb and Ness have made sure she knows you. She points to your picture and says NaNa.

Miss Bella Bear, your first grandbaby is so grown-up and turning into this gorgeous little woman. She is healthy and seizure free, and is still bossy as ever. She has so much strength and is more determined than ever to try anything. She is full of curiosity and has found her groove in life as a surfer and theater star. She is ten going on 15, and you would just adore who she has become. She holds onto most of the memories of you, and misses you dearly.  

As you can expect Lucas, sweet Lucas,  is still the sweetest little boy as he was when he was born. He is sensitive, goofy, full of energy and has so much kindness to give. He forgives easily, and loves immensely. He is one hell of a baseball player, a great big cousin and the most patient little brother ever. He too remembers his NaNa, and talks of you often.

Your last two grandchildren you didn’t know about.

Number four, Macie Arin (Arin- an homage to you and her other grandma) has completed Zeb and Ness’ family and has made all of our lives full of joy. We all joke that she was supposed to be the sweet baby, but she is more and more like her sassy sister, Sayda, these days. She is her father’s daughter when it comes to taking pictures and it makes me laugh.  If she doesn’t want to do something, she will let you know. She has the sweetest voice, and the most infectious laugh. She has some curly hair that is too adorable for life. She as well knows her NaNa, and helps decorate your gravestone with beautiful flowers. She is my little cashew who sure loves her Papa a whole lot <3

Last grandbaby (for now) is lucky number 5, my baby boy, Ezra.

Oh, momma, I wish more than anything you were here for my pregnancy and his birth. Through this experience I so desperately wanted you by my side. It was a pretty easy pregnancy for the most part, and you would have been impressed with how fast my labor and delivery went. Less than 4 hours from start to finish!! I mean, are you surprised? :)

I wish you could see how far I’ve come from the darkness. I wish so very much that you could have met Cameron, and see the strength he has given me. I wish you could see how much I have grown as a person with him at my side. He has taught me to believe in myself, to value my strengths, and to stand up for what I want. He has shown me a love that I didn’t know existed and through this love we have made a perfect little boy that you would have eaten up.

When Ezra made his debut and they placed him in my arms, I felt the world around me grow smaller. All that mattered was this tiny person in my arms. I’ve never wanted to hold on to something so tight in all my life. All I could do was stare at him for hours on end. The love I felt was intoxicating, but as I got home, a darkness started to settle in.  

I tried to brace myself for the grief of not having you here for this milestone, but it was more than your absence. The postpartum depression has been a weight I have never carried before. The first two months were difficult. I had this perfect person with me whom I loved more than anything, but all I wanted to do was hide. I wanted to take Ezra and stay with him in my room alone. No one talks about postpartum that much, and the idea that you’re supposed to be so happy after having a baby is false.

Loneliness is what I felt.

I could feel that same darkness that surrounded me after your death seeping back in and I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. So, with encouragement by my doctor I went back to counseling to deal with your loss once again and this new chapter of motherhood I was heading into.

After five months of trying to work it out on my own, I finally decided I needed more help and I began taking medication. I do wish someone encouraged me to do this after losing you, because I finally feel sunny skies over my head. 

(However, we both know that I’m a stubborn woman and more than likely wouldn’t have listened to anyone anyways :P)

I’m better now, mommy. I feel like I have figured out a way to live with a genuine smile on my face. I have found my strength again, but am not ashamed that dark days do happen. Your smile, laugh, and selflessness is at the core of my being, and I, in return, will instill that in your gorgeous grandson. He will know you, he will know that his NaNa was once a vivacious woman, who filled a room up with light and laughter. I look forward to seeing his personality grow, as I’m sure we will start to see pieces of you within him.

Everyone misses you.  

I miss you.

I miss having a mom to call. I miss having a mom to be here for me. I miss your warmth and your guidance, but I’m ok. I think for the first time in five years, I feel more light than I do dark.

As you bask in the sunlight behind the moon, beyond the rain, I know you know these things. I know you know we’re alright.

We feel your love. We feel your light.

Your loving daughter,

Mames