Dear Ms. Feverfew –
Today I am sending off a letter to your parents and family. My annual chatty, happy, sunshine and rainbow letter that always feels ridiculously artificial because….well, because it is artificial. I never tell them of how your loss has profoundly affected me over the years as a person, as a parent, as a woman – I just stick to the highlights of my life. Like every other mother who writes these kinds of letters, I labor over each word, each turn of phrase, and always wonder…did I say too much? Did I not say enough?
I never know if they get the letters or not. Or what they do with them once they do get them. Do they let you read them? Do they pass them around the dinner table and discuss the details of my life I have revealed to them? Or do they hastily read them and then discard them? Over the years, I haven’t received many responses but I will take what I can get. I keep the few I have received in my top drawer tucked in the back next to the first tooth Captain Knuckle lost, a hand-made card from the Professor from Mother’s Day a few years ago, the exquisite hair comb I wore when I married Mr. Amazing Man, and the love letters he has sent me over the years.
By sending off this letter it means for the next six months I will check the mail on a daily basis praying that there will be something – anything – from them. Then I spend the next six months or so trying to figure out how to write another one of these damn letters. And then it all begins again.
Sometimes it feels a bit insane to keep doing this but I do it because I love you. Always have, always will. And I want them to know nothing has changed. I want you to know nothing has changed. Is that selfish of me?
Much love and belief this enchanting May morning –