Dear Mamma,
I got surgery today. But I know you knew.
Thank you for being with me today. I needed you. I love you.
Your Baby Girl
Park Ranger Jenny
Dear Mom,
This week in my US History class (yes, I changed my minor again), we've been talking about the creation of the Forest Service and the creation of the national parks. And I can't help but think of you and how you always thought you'd missed your calling and you should have been a park ranger. Or a campground host, at the very least.
And you would have been so good at it. I can just see you in your floppy little hat, teaching kids how to safely put out fires and not get stung by poison ivy. And chatting the ears off every out-of-towner about the best hikes and bike trails and places to get ice cream and where they'd be most likely to see a bear.
That's who you are to me, you know. The woman who gave me my sense of adventure. The one who could always be counted on to stay twenty minutes too long, just talking to someone. Whether you knew them or not. The woman who always knew best. The person I miss every day.
I hope they have parks where you are. I hope you're talking someone's ear off right now. I hope you're having all of the adventures you couldn't when you were here, and your body couldn't quite keep up.
Love always,
The Fun Daughter
Make it Change.
Dear Mamma,
I find myself in the same hospital, sitting in the same position, doing the same things that I did to make you feel better two years ago, just with a different family member. And I wonder if this is a pattern. I wonder if this is how the rest of my life is going to be. Is this how our family is going to be from now on? Are we just forced to push through it with the same amount of trust in God we thought we had when you went through it? I don't know if I can, Mom.
I thought it was all supposed to stop. I thought that by losing you, losing my best friend, going through the hardest thing I've ever had to face, that life would just sail by from then on. That I had somehow earned my free ride through life. But here I am. Trying to fight my way through it again. Trying to trust that the Lord knows what He's doing. But all I find myself doing is asking, "Why me?" "Why you?"
Why did you leave, Mom? I know it's been almost two years. I shouldn't still be asking that question. But I am. I wonder why all the time. I wonder why it had to be so hard. I wonder why it still is so hard all the time. I wonder what today would be like. I imagine that we wouldn't fight all the time. But then again. I am the spitting imagine of you. And I wouldn't trade that for the world. There are times when Dad starts to laugh historically and says "Wow.. You are so much like Jenny.." And I couldn't be happier. There are times when I'm just stuck. Stuck with what to do, where to go, and I ask myself. What would you do? And I know. Everything's alright.
I miss you. That's why I write, Mom. Because sometimes I feel like you've just gone away on vacation and you'll walk through the door at anytime and I'll get to tell you all about what has happened these last couple of years. But I know you've been with me the whole time. But I'll write to you anyway. Because I love you more than I have at anytime in my life. Thank you for raising me to be the strong woman I am today. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for knowing who I was even before I did and loving me even when I was terrible to you.
These letters are for you. Because you're still my best friend. You're still apart of everything I do.
I love you.
Love,
Your Baby Girl