Mom, I have to write you this letter now, after you have gone. I miss you terribly and I love you. I know that where ever your spirit resides it is a beautiful place and that you are at peace.
It has been hard for me lately without you. I feel that only now, some three months since your passing, do I realize the depth of my feelings for you and the effect you had on my life. You were always there, you were my Mom and you knew me like few others ever have or ever will. In many ways we were so alike. I felt like I watched a part of myself slip away with you when you faced your final days. You were so courageous and so good natured in spite of your condition. I am so proud of that and I only hope that when my time comes that I be similarly brave and graceful.
I am sure you would not want me to dwell overly long on my feelings of sadness and loss; you asked all of us not to. I will not, I promise. In the present tense however, I am overcome. I remember that during your illness and your final weeks and days at home I fell into the role of "being strong" and not showing what I felt. I don't regret the choice (if it was a choice) to act so. I was there for my brother and Dad just as they were there for me. It had to be so, I feel. In many ways you took on a similar role; I believe the fight you were engaged in required it. We were all privileged to be with you til the end.
It is in the now that the release of my emotions has come.
You came to me in a dream a few nights ago. In the dream, you called me on the phone. I remember being overjoyed at the sound of your voice, though I can't recall what you said. I just knew it was you and that you were happy. A part of me believes that you were trying to tell me about the future. Is that so? I would welcome any further visitations to my dreams that you may wish to make and I will listen to and try to remember anything you say.
Following this dream something inside of me has opened up and is finally being released. I wonder if I have been holding on too tightly to you in my mind all this time. Perhaps this is the first step of letting go and really being at peace with your death. I have lived with these questions for a few days and sleepless nights and I am deeply tired. I confided in my brother today about how I am feeling. He understands of course. I promise I will speak to Dad tonight. I also promise to go back to work tomorrow.
I am speaking to you now, in perhaps not the best way, but one which feels effective. I do not believe it can be said too often how deeply I love you. Nor can I say too often that you were all the things a mother is meant to be.
Writing this down has helped me begin to feel better. It was always this way, wasn't it? I would sit on things and let them stew until I almost exploded. Then I would talk to you and feel better.
I will continue to talk to you, with my heart and my mind for as long as I have memory of you. If you have any further ability to speak to me please don't hesitate to do so from time to time in whatever way you can. I feel your presence and I know you watch over us all. We are lucky, we who know you.
I love you forever.
Til we meet again, I remain your loving son. —Anon