BY JENNIFER MADRIGAL
WARNING: Tissues are required.
A Letter To My Mom: It’s been five years since we lost you. Five long and sad years in which I haven’t heard your voice, felt your hug and smelled your scent. It’s been five years since you looked in my eyes; five years since I held your hand; five years since I brushed your hair; and five years since I felt your heart beat for the last time.
It’s been five years since we laid you to your final rest, with roses and butterflies gently landing on you as we lowered you into the ground. Five years since we watched each shovel of soil cover you farther away from us. It’s been five years since we struggled to come up with the perfect gravestone, trying to sum up such a wonderful life in 120 characters or less.
It’s been five years since I whispered in your ear, “You can go, I’ll take care of them.” Five years since I took your place dancing with your son in what should have been your dance. It’s been five years since my measure of time didn’t always include, “before my mom died.” It’s been five years since our world stood still, but the people around us didn’t seem to understand and went on living.
It’s been five years since I’ve really taken a deep breath and not felt the little sting of that hollow part of my heart. It’s been five years.
But…it’s been three years since your fourth grandson came along and brightened our world with his smile. It’s been one year since your fifth grandson came along and did the same. I look at my two newest nephews and I see you there in their smiles, their silly laughs and their eyes. I see you in the eyes of Isaiah, and remember all the fun you had with me when I was a teenager and drove you crazy. I hear you in the way Andrew always messes up his words, just like you used to do. And I feel you in the long, far-off gazes that Nicholas gives out of nowhere. I know you are there with him, guiding him along.
So although it’s been five years without you, it really hasn’t. You may not be physically here anymore, but you are still here. You are here in every smile on the face of your five grandsons. You are here with your son as he guides his young boys and shares his stories of you. You are there every time I look in the mirror and your eyes look back at me. So even though it’s been five years since we lost you, we’re all doing okay.
September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. Find out about the signs and symptoms by visiting http://www.ovariancancer.org
