Dear Mom,

Today would have been your birthday. You’d have been 59. I’ve been trying to think of how to commemorate your birthday. I had thought about going to Lake Wilson. Actually had planned to do so, but then Dad had the surgery on his foot. He’s not in any condition for company. That, and the fact that I think he grieves better in private. After you died, he had to leave the house a couple of times, I think so he could really let go. That has kind of continued, though I think he’s better about showing it around me. Probably helps that he’s seen me break down a couple times. I wanted to go there so I could put some flowers on your marker at the cemetary. I also had thought about planting a tree or bush in your honor. Just couldn't think of what kind to plant or where. Amy said it is too bad one of your favorite authors doesn't have a new book out that we could read. Maybe buy it and donate it to the library. Anyway, I decided to write you this letter.

It’s funny. I’ve had clients write letters like this before, mainly because all the counseling books talk about how powerful it can be. I was skeptical until I actually started this. Not constant sobbing, but a lot of tears. I miss you SO much. I’m thankful with all my heart that you aren’t in pain any longer, but I miss you.

It has been tough this year because there have been so many firsts without you here. Riverboat Days was just last weekend. I spent a good portion of the weekend remembering how you and Dad would come to visit on that weekend, we’d see the fireworks, the parade, and eat some good fair food. I wish we’d gotten you that Indian Taco you wanted last year. Stupid, huh? You dying of cancer and I’m obsessing on the taco.

I know you knew at this time last year that the cancer was coming back stronger than ever and I feel you were only wanting to make it long enough to get Grandma to Autumn’s wedding. I think it was when you guys were here last Sept. that I knew, Mom. I saw you come out of the bathroom at the hotel and thought "she’s dying."

Anyway, the year of firsts without you… Thanksgiving, Christmas, Dad’s birthday, my birthday, Accalia’s birthday, the camp-out… so much stuff with a void. Part of me is scared about this getting to feel normal. I’d still give anything to get that weekly phone call from you each Sunday. Dad’s continued it, which is good for both of us. He’s just more the "get on and get off" the phone type.

I think you’d be really proud of Dad. The pain still radiates from him some times, like at the Relay in Slayton a few weeks ago. I think he is trying to continue with his life without you, like you were hoping he’d do. I think he is seeing someone, but he’s not said anything to me yet. Just some suspicions. He mentioned he was going to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory earlier this summer. Definitely not his type of movie, but Amy did point out he may be just trying to get out and do something. The last time I was home, I saw two tickets for a Leann Rimes concert in September in Iowa. Not his type of music. The tickets could be for someone else, but I think he realized he’d left them in plain sight as they disappeared pretty quickly. I’m sure he’s worried about how Mark and I will react. Not sure about Mark, but if Dad’s happy, I’m happy for him. I know no one will replace you in his heart. I also now can really appreciate the talk we had after you first got back from the hospital. It helps to know that you weren’t expecting him to remain alone for the rest of his life.

Dad got a dog, I think it was in May. Named it Dodger on my suggestion. This dog would drive you nuts, Mom. He pees on everything. The last two times I’ve been home, I’ve gone on urine patrol with a bottle of vinegar. Each time have found several places in various stages of drying. Good thing the floors are the Pergo. It’s good for Dad to have the companionship, though. I know he’s happy to have some company. And hey, I don’t know if Dad is holding his water all that well at this stage anyway (ha!)

I’m sorry your ashes haven’t been spread yet. It is something I promised you, but I’ve not been able to do anything about it yet. Mark has been weird about it and I’m not sure about Dad. At first, he was saying that he is going to follow through on your wishes, then Mark is telling me that Dad wants to bury part of your cremains with his when he dies. I need to get those two together and get this decided. For all I know, Dad may have already done it, but he did promise me to wait until I’m there with him. I want Mark to have the option of being there as well.

Mark, as I’ve said, has been pretty shut down on losing you by what I’ve seen. He’s probably grieving in private, but he has been avoiding any mention of you. I wrote something about the Relay for Life and the luminary we’d made. Not a word from him. Oh, and when Dad had his foot infection last week, Mark apparently wasn’t answering his phone and wasn’t responding to anything I was writing to him in my emails about Dad. Like he thinks if he doesn’t acknowledge his fears, they won’t happen. We haven’t seen a whole lot of them since they moved. I think we saw them more when they were in Gettysburg! Going to have to make more of an effort to invite them down next summer. Maybe a picnic at the beach.

Have you met your new grandbaby yet? I’ve had this image in my head of you and your parents and Dad’s parents gathering around and picking out this wonderful spirit to send to us. I’ve felt the baby move a couple of times. It is so incredible. I’m eager to meet him or her. Like I told you, if it is a girl, her middle name will be Mary. Dad doesn’t know that and likely won’t until he’s actually meeting her. If it’s a boy. Well, Mom, as a therapist, I can’t in good conscience saddle my son with Mary as a middle name. Just know that this probably isn’t going to be our last (God willing).

We sold our house in Mitchell! How unbelievable is that? I guess all your prayers finally worked (or maybe you interceded on our behalf when you got up there). Anyway, we lost a bunch of money on it, but it is gone and not our headache any longer. Speaking of house headaches, I don’t think the bat proofing we paid to have done last year has yielded the results we’d wanted. Already have had one in the house and have heard at least one more in the walls of the house. Creeps me out. I’m terrified that Amy or one of the kids will get bitten by a rabid bat. Esp. worried about Amy and the baby.

Been a tough year, Mom. First losing you, then Grandpa, and then Grandma. It was really tough seeing Grandma after Grandpa died. She was still reeling from losing you. Mark and I talked after Grandma’s funeral about how desensitized we were to death of family. I do miss getting calls from Grandma. And it was really odd this year on my birthday to not hear anything from her or from you. Dad even forgot to call me on my birthday. That hurt a lot. I know it wasn’t intentional, but it still hurt me.

I’ve been swimming. 5 days a week since mid-January. I’m estimating that I was at about 285 lbs., maybe as much as 290 lbs. when I started. I was weighed last in mid-Oct. after having the chest wall pain, was 278 then and that was before you died and the holidays. I’m sure I put on a lot of weight after the Oct. weighing. The good news is that the weight is coming off. I’ve not changed my eating habits much. A little more focus on getting in fruits and veggies, but haven’t changed my Coca-Cola consumption. Still losing about 2 lbs. a month in the last 5 months. Less likely to go back on if it comes off gradually and I keep swimming regularly. No real specific goals other than to continue to exercise.

I heard that being healthy is dying at the slowest possible rate. I don’t know that I fear death anymore. If I die, I leave this imperfect body behind and enter heaven. I get to see you again. I don’t see it as a scary thing. No plans to speed it along, though. I am prepared to stay down here and watch my babies grow up and give me grandbabies.

In that last note you left for me, you told me to feel you with me. I want you to know that I have and do. I feel so blessed to be your son. I think of all the times I was little short of a brat. I see Accalia and Cole act the same way at times and it frustrates me because it is the behavior I’d engage in that I wish I hadn’t.

Amy and the kids are doing well. Accalia had another recital and passed her first year of swimming lessons. She’s suddenly part fish! No worries about getting her face in the water. Cole is such a ball of energy. I’d love to talk with you about how you managed with me and Mark. It’s cool because the kids play pretty well with one another a lot of the time. I can remember playing with Mark some, but more by myself with my superheroes and Star Wars toys.

I was contacted about contributing a chapter to a book. A psychologist in Florida had a friend who saw me in Kansas City last year. The book is on using superheroes in therapy. Have no idea about any of the details other than the proposal has been accepted and I need to get the thing written. I’ll finally be a published author!

Speaking of authors, I’ve missed talking books with you. Have been a lot by our favorite authors out in the past several months. I even heard Stephen King is planning to publish more – guess his retirement won’t be happening.

I was thinking this would be longer, Mom. There’s still a lot in my head, but it is primarily a feeling of being very tired and somewhat spent. This did help a lot to write this. Don’t know if you’ll get this. Am confident that even without seeing the words, you’ll get the message.

I love you and miss you. I wish you were here and healthy so we could celebrate your turning 59 and start planning your big b-day next year. It’s not what God had planned for us. I understand it and accept it. Doesn’t mean that I’ll ever stop missing you.

All my love,
Cory