Eight Years

Hi Mom,

It’s that time of year again. Time to write your letter. Eight years. Eight very long years. Yet somehow it still seems like yesterday, it’s gone by so fast. I still miss you every day. A few weeks ago, I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I could hear it ringing, like when you call someone. I thought “who did I pocket-dial?” My heart stopped when I looked at the screen. “Mom.” I briefly thought about letting it ring, but what would I have done had someone picked up? Surely someone else has your cell phone number now. So I hung up. It’s silly, but I prefer to leave your number in my phone. It somehow brings me comfort, like I could still just pick up the phone and call you.

I’ve been attending a Grief Share program. We meet weekly. I didn’t really want to go last night, thinking I would be super emotional (who, me?) but I went anyway. We did an activity with puzzles (and missing pieces), which somehow led to this next activity. Lynne turned off all the lights, and someone actually had a lighter. We talked about how, in times of darkness, we only need one small flame – one tiny flicker of light – to get us through, give us hope, and help us find our way.

This morning, I felt called to journal before writing your letter. I must admit, it’s been a long time since I picked up a journal and just wrote. I couldn’t find my most recent one, so I just picked one sitting on top of a pile of books on my bookshelf. Of course, I had to read what was already in there. The date was November 10, 2022, two days before your anniversary. On the VERY FIRST PAGE, I had written “I found the light in the dark. I found joy in the sadness. I found hope in despair. I fought my way back from the darkness.” Ha. Really? But wait, it gets better. I continued reading, and on the LAST PAGE, a month and a half later, I wrote, “Something flipped in me, like a light switch. I know the lights will flicker, and times when it will seem dark. I just have to remember that God is the light.” I was so blown away by that. What a message, what a reminder. And to have it all connect to my night last night. Wow.

You were the light to so many of us, Mom. You knew firsthand how light can overcome the dark. Once again, Mumma, thank you. Thank you for shining your light. I promise to continue shining mine to help others find their way in the darkness.

I love you and miss you so much.

4^th Daughter xoxo