Dear Mom,

I have often thought about all the things I should have said and would like to say if I had a chance to speak to you in heaven—even just once. Sadly, I have spent even more time regretting the things that I did say, words that surely must have pierced your heart, hearing them from the lips of your only daughter. I am ashamed. I am ashamed that too often I felt embarrassed by your “quirkiness”, your perceived naiveté, or by your childlike manner. I always thought that I was so much wiser! Now I realize as I am writing, and I, too, have a daughter approaching her teenage years and I will surely fall victim at some point to her tongue as well. I will blame that on “the teenage years”, and try to find comfort in the fact that those things are often anticipated and accepted as being a rite of passage. I will chalk it up to youth and I will be forgiving (and will also take away her cell phone for a period of time).

I cannot forgive myself as easily, however, for I remember even in adulthood feeling an intolerance for some of what made you, “you”. And worse, I fear, I think you knew it. I hope that it is my guilty memory only that makes me think this, and that I was a good daughter, but I cannot be sure. And for that I am ever so sorry.

If I had the chance now, I would tell you that I have missed you so terribly these last ten years of my life! I want you here, with me, with your grandchildren, and your great grand child. I want you here now, when I have reached a point in my life where I would be able to appreciate your goodness so much more. Where you would know me at a time where I recognize some of that very nature that drove me nuts about you, in me, and I know that I am a better person for it.

If I had the chance now, I would tell you that I hope you know how very much I have always loved you, and how I have a hole in my heart that will only be filled when I see you again and can receive your forgiveness. If only I had known that the cancer would hit you so fast and so furious, I would have been less selfish. I would have spent time appreciating you instead of wasting it in judgment. I remember listening to all of the people that attended your memorial service as they stood and recounted a certain moment, a story, a gift that they had received from just knowing you, and feeling such a sadness that they seemed to know you so much better than I. That it was from the mouths of strangers that I began to see you as being wonderful because of your special uniqueness. I can only hope as I continue my journey here on earth, that I can touch as many people as you did with a caring heart, and that I can be a mother to my own like you were to me.

If I had the chance now, I would say that although my children hurt me, through word, or action, I still never doubt their love for me. I find comfort only in the belief that perhaps you knew the same.

And, if I had the chance, I would tell you that I love you, have always loved you, and I am so very, very proud to be your daughter.