I know you lost your Mama way too soon. You weren’t ready to let her go. The cancer was ugly and quick. You barely had time to say good-bye. It was over in 5 weeks. And, really, you had just become a woman yourself. At that stage of life, who knows to ask their mothers questions of substance? Does anyone know the right questions when they are 22? But now…
It’s been almost 13 years and still the loss is like a vacuum at times. You ask about her often, wanting her sisters, her own mother to fill in the blanks. We strive to pull buried memories out for you, anything to give you more of her.
We celebrated yesterday because you are about to become a mother yourself. You thought this long-awaited baby would never snuggle in your arms. Getting pregnant has been hard. But here you are 8 weeks from motherhood yourself. And now, already, you know more about your mother than I could ever tell you. She treasured you when you were only a heartbeat in her womb. She rubbed her tummy when she felt you kick that first time — and every time after. She prayed for you. She cried when you were born. She was a good mother. She loved you more than herself. And she would do anything for you because that is what mothers do. You were the reason she didn’t want to go.
Motherhood is a miracle — The act of carrying and birthing a child; even the act of raising a child… As you love, teach and train, memories will surface at unexpected times. You will remember your mom through this little boy. When he skins his knee, something your Mom said to you will come out of your mouth. When he cries out at night because of a nightmare, you will remember how your Mom comforted you. It might be a field trip or a walk in the park, but it will most likely be a surprise to you. A new memory. And it will be sweet and precious and sad and happy — all at the same time. Motherhood is like that.
One day, your mom will meet this little one. And in ways that only God knows and understands, it will be as though she has always known him. One day, it will be okay. Until then, I hope you know how much you are loved. We cannot be your mom — no one could take her place. But her sisters love you like their own. We pray for you. We worry about you. We hold you in our heart. We will laugh with you and cry with you over all the ups and downs of motherhood. We already love this little guy. He, too, holds a part of our heart.
She taught you well — you are going to be a great mother.
One thought on “To My Sister’s Daughter…”
So very beautiful and heartfelt and true, Connie. Your niece is blessed. Thank you for sharing this.