A Letter Sent Above

To my unofficial mother-in-law,

I say "unofficial" since we are not legally bound, but we don't need the law to bind us. Time and love have done that. You'd like to call me your future daughter-in-law, though your son and I have never been, and likely never will be, engaged to be married. It was a choice he and I made, but you still treated me as your own daughter for over a decade. I was the "baby girl."

You recently left us all heartbroken. You left us almost a month ago and I am still in a state of denial. You gave your all and that is all we could ever ask for. We understood it was your time to leave, but that doesn't make the pain any easier to bear.

Although you will never read this, I want to thank you for your presence in my life and everything that you have given. I am grateful that you were a part of my life for almost fifteen years. I only wish that it could have been longer.

Thank you for bringing your son into this world and into my life. You showed me how a mother gives her all to her child, even when it seems she has nothing left to give. To go beyond and then some. To give everything so he could have a full childhood, filled with joy and love. To give everything so he could have a college education, the first in the family to step foot on a college campus. You gave everything, down to your last penny. Then you built yourself up and did it again. The true selflessness of a mother.

Thank you for giving him memories he will cherish forever. Those memories he shared as we sat by your bedside during your final days: traveling across the state on a scavenger hunt for the newest and best Pokémon cards, filling plastic buckets with pounds of sugary candy, spending the summers at the campground. We laughed, trying to paint a happier picture than what was presented in front of us. We laughed, hoping it would lighten the weight resting on your chest and ease your labored breathing.

Thank you for recognizing your son's intelligence and wonder, for kickstarting his education earlier than most. It's what made it possible for him to sit next to me years later in our very first class as college freshmen. I hope that I don't sound too selfish. I will forever be grateful for the decisions that have brought all of us together.

Thank you for your true awe of his accomplishments, from childhood through adulthood. To see the appreciation and pride in your eyes. Nothing was too small to celebrate. Thank you for fostering such a nurturing environment with the freedom for growth without expectations.

Thank you for sharing all of your quirks over the years. The inappropriate yet hysterical comments made at the dinner table. Your love for pickles and Charleston Chews. How coffee flowed through your veins at any given point during the day. Your love for the rainbow popcorn at Franklin's General Store. How you wrapped toilet paper for Christmas. Your love of Bingo and the buffet at the casino. You were a true kid at heart.

Thank you for passing on your witty sense of humor and your unwavering compassion. I hope you know that your son has inherited your best qualities.

Thank you for the countless moments we've experienced together, from the trivial to the once-in-a-lifetime treasures. From trips to Sunflower Farm for baked goods and homemade soaps, to state fairs for fall fun and fried food, to the Yankee Candle Factory for holiday cheer and endless gifts, and to the Big E for more fried food and laughter, to a trip across the ocean to explore the beauty of Ireland and to witness your son's graduation from an international master's program.

Thank you for being the tireless caregiver for everyone, the cornerstone of the family, up until your body could give no more. It is your time to rest. I hope you know how much you are appreciated and loved. I hope you can finally rest with peace and comfort knowing you will have a lasting impact on our lives for years to come.

I don't know if you heard me whisper late on one of your final nights, when your son left the room, and I had a moment alone with you. I hope you heard my final words to you. Less than thirty-six hours later you were gone. Cancer had done what it tends to do and took you away from us far too soon. It was not my first experience with cancer taking a loved one, or with hospice, but it was the most intimate and heart wrenching.

Your loss is still a fresh wound. I randomly find myself tearing up or smiling thinking back to the many memories made over the last fifteen years. Thank you for giving me something to smile about, even on the hardest days.

Love,

Your "baby girl"