The Twenty-Second of November

Hi Mom,

It’s that dreaded day again.

I’m sitting here, drinking some tea, and I figured since I can’t call you, I’ll write you a letter.

This day always seems to be a bit more dim than the rest. It’s like my world is cold and silent, while the rest of everyone else’s world continues on as usual. Everyone’s all excited; getting out of work early, heading to Thanksgiving Eve parties, getting everything ready for tomorrow. But not me.

All I can think about, is you.

As I sit here starting this letter, I’m starting to realize that I could literally think of a thousand topics to write to you about, and that this letter could probably go on for pages and pages. But rather than complain about how bad it sucks that you won’t be joining us for Thanksgiving for the 4th year in a row, I want to tell you what I’m thankful for.

I’m thankful for the times you took me apple and pumpkin picking when I was little, and then we’d go home to make apple crisp and carve the pumpkins. We’d bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch – you taught me how to measure the right amount of flour and sugar, and how to scrape the top with a butter knife to make sure it was flat. You’d put on your apron, and help me put on my mini one. I thought I was so cool and grown up – I wanted to be just like you. To this day, when I bake cookies, I use a butter knife to scrape the top of the ingredients to make sure it’s perfect. I think of you every single time.

Behind the orchard where we picked apples and pumpkins, is where you are laid to rest. It’s bittersweet, as all I want to do is walk through those orchards with you again, but it brings me peace knowing you are resting in such a sentimental place.

I’m thankful for all the times you’d come home after a long, tiring day of work and make us dinner. I know you were absolutely exhausted, and you could have just thrown something in the microwave for me, but you didn’t. I’m grateful for every single day that you went to work, and then to your second job, all to do the best you could to provide for me.

My God, I wish I could have sat you down back then, held your hands and looked you in the eye to deeply thank you for every single thing you did for me.

I’m thankful for all the ‘Mom and Me’ dance parties we’d have in the living room, singing, “I Would Walk 500 Miles” by the Proclaimers as loud as we could. Our favorite dessert was the ice cream Dove bars. Each time I pass them in the frozen aisle at the supermarket, these beautiful memories come to mind.

I’m thankful for every single time you sat in the stands to watch me cheer. You were always there. When I close my eyes, I can see your face, beaming down at me from the stands in the freezing cold at every football game. You were there for every game, every competition, every play, every award, every appointment, every dance recital, every ceremony. You would stop at nothing to ensure that you were there for me, supporting me through every decision I made. I know it was exhausting rushing out of work to make it on time to a 7:00pm game; I’m sure it seemed like it didn’t mean much to me at the time, Mom, and I’m so sorry I didn’t show more appreciation at the time.

I’m thankful for every time you made me keep my word. And for every time you kept yours. For every time you told me to walk in someone else’s shoes. For every time you taught me to take responsibility for my actions. For every time you kept me grounded, and taught me to be kind and humble.

I admire everything you were. You wouldn’t hesitate to give the shirt off of your back to someone who needed it. You were the first to make friends with the unfriendly and the lonely. You’d bring laughter to even the most solemn soul.

I’m thankful for all of those, “Home safe? xo” texts. The, “No texting while driving! xo” texts. All of the, “Call me when you get home”, “Did you get there safe?” texts. I used to think you were nagging me, and I’d get so aggravated, but looking back now I would give anything in the world to see just one text from you pop up on my phone. Just one.

I always wonder about how amazing your reactions would have been if I would have been able to tell you that Matt and I were engaged, or when I found out I was pregnant. What your reaction would have been the first time you got to hold your Grand babies. I’d give everything I have just to be able to see the look of pure bliss on your face, the moment they were placed into your arms.

I’m thankful for all of those times I’d call you (at least 3 times a day, even when you were at work and I knew you couldn’t talk but I needed you), and you’d pick up every single time. All of those e-mails saying how excited and proud you were every time I’d be doing something exciting with the Patriots. You were truly my biggest fan, always in my corner, and I can’t tell you how badly it hurts to have that corner empty.

I’m thankful for all of the beautiful ways that you were a mother to me. The love, the hugs, the lessons. I have yet to find the incredible qualities that made you, “you”, in someone else. You were a rare, beautiful soul. You were genuine, honest, selfless, kind, driven, strong – the list is endless. I strive, on a daily basis, to be a QUARTER of the incredible mother and person you were. It’s difficult trying to find what I found in you, in others, as it’s simply impossible. It’s a constant battle, settling with the fact that you were one in a million, and that my 23 years with you, are up. That now you simply live on in memory, and in feelings in my heart; in reminders and places.

On the last day we had together, I promised you I’d be strong, and your last words to me were, “I know you will.”

I am trying so hard, Mom. On a daily basis, giving everything I have to be strong. Through every dip into darkness, through every pit in my stomach after a sad dream, through every moment I need you and you aren’t there.

I am thankful that you and Dad sent down two little angels to bring me comfort and peace on a daily basis. You knew I needed them, and you sent them to me.

You saved me.

I promise you that I will do everything in my power to be the pillar of strength to them, that you were to me. I promise to instill all of the values into them, that you instilled in me.

I am thankful for everything you were, and everything you are to me, Mom. Thank you for every minute, every hug, every sacrifice, every lesson, every, “I’m proud of you”. I am who I am, because of you.