Dear Mom,

I haven’t even started writing, and there are tears in my eyes. Oh, yes, this month is going to be rough. I find my thoughts are filled with you. And when they are not directly about you, they sneak up and blindside me with some unexpected tie to you.

Sometimes it knocks the wind out of me.

I find I am really not looking forward to this 4th of July. I have looked at the photo taken July 4, 2016, when you didn’t feel up to going out to watch the fireworks, so sweet EM and SM brought in poppers and showered you with confetti.

I wish I had been there to see it. To see you smile. To hear you giggle. To watch you love on those babies. I know you did. That’s who you were… it’s what you did.

And yet you know life was busy. And you were more concerned about me, and all that was going on in my life than you were with your own. Because of the turmoil in my life, you even asked me if I was ok, you needed to know I would be ok. It is one of the last conversations we had, and it replays in my mind often. Your selfless concern you had for me is unmatched.

Just 20 short days later, you were gone. And my heart still aches.

How I wish and have wished over this last year, that I could call you for one more chat. To tell you what’s going on now. What the kids are doing now. What I’m doing now. To ask you about your own grief when you lost Grandma. I remember the trip back, and how you cried. I remember your tears at the funeral home. I don’t remember any more. I never saw you wrestle like I have wrestled. I know we had conversations about Grandma, but I don’t remember telling you through my tears how much I missed my grandmother like my kids tell me.

I want to call and just chat. Especially when I’m driving. The conversations we would have when I was behind the wheel usually were more about keeping me awake then deep talks, and yet sometimes they were really very thought provoking. I miss that.

I miss knowing that if something was important to me, you would care about it. No matter how trivial it really was, you still would understand. You still wanted to listen. You still cheered me on. I miss knowing that even if I had called you five times already, you would still be excited to talk to me if I called again.

I miss driving around town and you laughing, “You never take me home the same way twice.” I miss shopping and calling you to ask what that one thing was in that one dish… and you would know.

I miss being able to talk to you about something and not having to explain the history behind whatever it is. Because you were there and you knew what all was implied.

I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I was able to talk to you. Even longer since I hugged you. I hope you know how much you are loved. How much you are missed. Those babies you were so afraid wouldn’t know you… they miss you like crazy.

Anyway, I just really wanted to tell you we all love you.