Dear Mom,

Today you would have turned 60. In the ideal world, where mom’s didn’t get cancer and die, this weekend would have been a blast. Mark’s family and my family would have been there – all the grandkids in one spot. Lots of noise and barely controlled chaos. I imagine we’d all have gone out for dinner last night. Instead, I visited your marker at the cemetery. I know that very little of your remains were spread there (and more were spread at the park, the ball field, and the backyard) but it is still a single place to go to remember you. It’s not that I don’t do that and can’t do it anyplace else, it is just more concrete to go there and see your name. I’m glad you did relent on the marker and allowed that as part of your final arrangements. I think Dad goes out there fairly often. I’d not be surprised if he is out there on a daily basis as part of the walks he’s been taking.

This has been, in many ways, an easier year. Not as many “firsts” without you. The anniversary was hard. Had me realizing I’d not heard your voice in over a year. Now the second anniversary is coming and I’m realizing again how long it has been. Okay, I admit, I probably am thinking that at some level every day.


We have found some home movies with you on them. It was good to see you and hear your voice. I’ll eventually get through them all, maybe learn how to transfer them to DVD. Maybe hit Mark up for any and all home movies he has with you. A way for your grandkids to be able to hear your voice and see you. A way for all of us to remember you.

You missed a couple of pretty big things in the past year. The happiest thing is Ella. She is so beautiful. I love her smile and her laugh. She loves her big brother and sister. She’s already a handful. I spent part of this weekend wondering what you’d have thought of her. I’ve heard from Pat that Ella looks like you did as a baby. She even has curly hair, like you did when you were younger. I know a part of you is living on in her.

The other was Dad’s surgeries. The shoulder wasn’t as scary as the bypass. There were times during the bypass that I was resigned to Dad’s dying, almost expecting it when the phone rang. I never had the sense of dread, the KNOWING that it would happen, like I did during your surgery. Dad’s pretty well recovered and is continuing to exercise.

I wonder what you’d think of Dad having the motorcycle and if he’d have gotten it if you were still here. I wonder if you’d be willing to remain in Lake Wilson after the grocery store closed. I wonder how often you and Dad would be making the rounds to visit us and Mark’s family. I wonder what you’d think about Dad maybe running for mayor. I wonder what books you’d be reading, what you’d think of the new Evanovich, the new Stephen King, the new Jeffery Deaver… I wonder what shows you’d be watching and we’d be talking about. I wonder who you’d have picked to win the Emmy’s tonight. I wonder how many books you’d have read to and how many board games you’d have played with your grandkids this weekend.

I think the mourning has stopped. I’m still grieving, though. Always will. I love you and miss you, especially on the day we would have celebrated a milestone with you.

Love,
Cory