Open on Your Eighteenth Birthday

May 18, 1949

My dear sweet Althea Rose,

I write this letter while I watch you sleep in the crib your father made you from across the bedroom. I can see your wee brow wrinkle and relax with some little dream you are dreaming. Your tiny lips pucker in response to some delicacy you’re experiencing while in some Sandman’s fantasy. Your teeny hands reach and clutch for some prize only Morpheus allows you to see.

As you lie in the Dream King’s blessed embrace, as only the purely innocent can ever truly obtain, I feel a sense of envy. Envy that the Lord of the Dreaming steals much of our remaining time.

I lie here in this metal daybed, smelling of death and lavender, writing this letter to you with what strength I have left as the Lord of Death patiently waits for his rendezvous with me, shortening the moments I get to spend with you even more. Gods are jealous, wanting as much of our attention as they can force from us, and we have two deities fighting for the time we have. I greedily don’t want to share with them or anyone else.

I will miss many firsts because Thanatos has decided my time is nearly up. I will never see your first tooth or witness your first steps. When you speak your first word, I will not be there; nor will I be for your first day of school. As your baby teeth start to fall out, your father will be the one to place the tooth fairy money under your pillow. As you grow, you will learn to ride a bike, then later to drive a car, and many more milestones that I will miss due to the Lord of Death’s decision to rip me from this life.

As you enter womanhood, you must lean on others because I will not be there to answer your questions, my sweet doll. I’ll miss out on your first date and helping you pick a prom dress. I only hope you can find someone to talk to about female problems, someone whose advice is good and godly.

I yearn to be able to give you the advice I wish my mother had given me throughout my short life. The lord of Mortality has decided otherwise, and not only do I not have the strength to write it all down, but I do not have the time either. Soon, I know I will lie in Death’s cold embrace.

Dust motes are floating in the sunlight from the only lace-covered window, reminding me how swiftly the days move on. Each day I am granted with you is worth more than gold and jewels. I would not trade all the riches in the world for these last moments I am rewarded with being with you.

There’s not much I’m apologetic for in my life. I regret kissing Vinnie Babalino behind the school gym when I was twelve. I’m remorseful for not telling my dad I loved him more before he passed away when I was fourteen. It’s lamentable that I never finished high school, dropping out my Sophomore year to get factory work. Not marrying your father while I was younger is another rueful moment.

What I mourn the most is waiting so long to have you. Oh, my sweet precious little bird, how I wish I could have held you, smelt your clean powder scent and sang treasured lullabies to you so much sooner than I did. The musical sound of your laugh fills my heart with so much love, my beloved little bug. Staring into your eyes as you take a bottle completely amazes me; you’re such a perfect little person who was created inside me. How could you even come from me?

Ah, something else to feel sorrow over. Because of my sickness, I’m unable to breastfeed you like a proper mother should. Your father and I have had to resort to feeding you with a bottle, for my milk never came in due to this cancer I carry in my body. Even though Leto hasn’t honored me with full motherhood, she has at least blessed me with you, my dove.

I wish the morphine the doctor prescribed to ease my pain would take away my pain instead of making me so tired. It doesn't always seem to attack the pain caused by the cancer, though, and there have been times I hurt too bad to attend to your needs, forcing me to allow your father the privilege. Frustrating me, for I lose those precious minutes with you, even though he sits on the bed beside me, where I can still keep you in my sight.

All of this boils down to you, my sweet Althea Rose. The feeling of abandonment I know you will grow up with, knowing that I choose not to go through with the treatment offered to me. You’ll grow up not understanding how I could make the decision I made.

Your father and I tried so hard to have a baby over the four years we’ve been married. I knew, due to my mature age of twenty-eight and your father’s age of thirty-three, that my biological clock was ticking. There were five failed pregnancies during this time, and with each miscarriage, I begged the goddess Leto to grant me a miracle, and if she did, I would do as she commanded of me.

I was ecstatic when I learned I was pregnant with you, especially since I had already reached the four-month mark, starting the second trimester. The signs were pointing to a normal pregnancy until I got sick in the fifth month.

At first, my doctor chalked it up to pregnancy hormones and sent me on my way. By the sixth month, he realized something was wrong when I had lost a pound instead of maintaining or gaining. He failed to test for cancer until the seventh, though, and by then, the breast cancer had already attacked my lymph nodes.

Of course, there were options I could have done. The doctors all were insisting that I have a caesarian, and have you early, for me to undergo their long list of treatments. They wanted me to have radiation therapy. A mastectomy was even mentioned.

All I knew was your odds of survival at this stage of your development were so small, I just couldn’t do that to you. I had to give you the best chance I could, my angel. I had to hold on to life until you were more fully formed.

Phanes has given me these three months to spend with you. The god of Life gave you to me and made my dreams come true. I’ve not wasted a single waking moment that the Lord of Life has bestowed on us. I've spent it by memorizing your looks, smell, and newly forming personality, so I may take these memories to heaven when my time comes.

I never want you to blame yourself for my decision. If I had it to do over, I would do it again. I want you to understand that you are and will always be the best thing I ever did. Being your mama has been the shortest, but the highest honor I could ever have had.

I see you with your sassy personality, always ready with your laughter, yet I also sense a strong stubbornness in your nature. With this fire in your spirit, I know you will go far, my moxie girl. Never let anyone dampen your fire.

Watching you these last three months, I’ve seen your personality starting to form. You may have my looks with your dark chestnut curls, as your father frequently insists to me, but you have his curious intelligence. The milestones you have already reached have astounded even your busybody great-Aunt Margaret, silencing her ever-ready advice before it even begins.

I hope you find a man with the gentleness of your father, the kindness of Grandpa Hal, the honesty of Grandpa Stephen, and the playfulness of your Uncle Billy. I hope this man treats you with the respect and dignity you will always deserve, taking care of you if you become sick as your father has me. I pray this person you choose to marry treats you as an equal and never ignores your needs or wants.

I watch you while I listen to your father's and mine favorite song by Perry Como on the Philco AM/FM radio on station KPRY.

Till the end of time

Long as stars are in the blue

Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing

I'll go on loving you

As the words play on the table radio, I quietly cry for all I will lose by leaving this world like I do. I do know that even though I am being culled from this life, my love will continue even after my death. Nothing will ever come between my fondness for you and your father.

I pray that Niobe has pity on you and, taking you under her wing, supplies for you what I won’t be able to provide. May Athena guide you in wisdom and Aphrodite in love. Most of all, may Hera always protect you from all harm. Before long, you will be less in Morpheus’ protection and require each of these blessed deities’ protection.

As you go through your life, I want you to understand how much I love and want you. I waited my whole life just to meet and hold you. I would not change anything in my life that has led to this moment of being your mama.

I may be leaving this world, but I want you to know I will forever live on in you and your children. I will always be watching down upon you from heaven. Physically, I may not be with you, but spiritually, I will be covering you with my love.

I wish I could be there for you every night, reading the myths and legends I grew up listening to as a child. That’s not meant to be, though. Instead, your father has promised me that he will ensure you are introduced to these tales as you grow. Each time he reads to you, know that I was there, too, brushing the hair from your forehead and kissing your brow.

This letter seems like I am rambling, my dear daughter, and perhaps I am. I have stopped several times due to being tired and needing to rest because this cancer eats me away so quickly. Each time you’ve awakened, I’ve set my pen down to spend your waking moments with you.

Whether I’m awake or asleep, you are all I think about. I envision the woman you will grow into; I dream about how you will change the world. I know I won’t be there to see what you will become, but in my heart, I know you will grow up to do great things. It doesn’t matter what you decide to do; whatever you do, it will turn out even better because of you.

Always know that I am proud of you, my precious daughter.

With all my loving heart,

Your mother,

Adalaide Grace