Dear Mom - It's Been Eight Years

Dear Mom,

Aunt Gwen included a bunch of pictures of you in our Christmas card this year.  Most of them I had already seen but as I was clearing off my counter and looking at them again, I broke down into tears.  You were a beautiful woman and these pictures represent a part of your life that I know little about.  And now you are gone I am unable to ask you about each picture and the memories that go along with them.

I remember all too well the night before you died eight years ago.  I had decided to sleep next to your hospital bed so you didn't have to be alone your last night on earth.  I talked to you, prayed with you, sang hymns to you (mostly in Finnish since I didn't know many hymns in English) and held your hand.  We talked a little.  You nodded to answer some of my questions, sometimes showing you understood what was about to happen and other times showing you weren't entirely aware.  I never left your side once and honestly, those last few hours hours with you were the most precious and sacred of anything I have experienced so far.  When I asked you if I could go the bathroom and leave you alone, you reached for my hand, shook your head no and pleaded with your eyes for me to remain by your side.   I did.  This reminded me of the many times I lay sick with the flu as a child and you sat on the edge of my bed, smoothing my hair when I just didn't want to be left alone.  I am selfishly glad we had those last few hours together - just you and me.  Us girls had to stick together with all of these boys in our family, even until the very end.

We are about to have our third baby - a girl.  I am sure you already know this.  Maybe you are even laughing at me with a knowing laugh of the joys and challenges that lay ahead of raising this girl.  I can hear you saying "I hope you have a daughter some day JUST LIKE YOU.  Then you will understand what I had to go through."  Whether she is like me, her father or most likely, her own self, I wish you could be here to enjoy her along with your other grand kids.  You would adore each of them.

I miss you mom.  I hope you know how much I love you and all you ever did for me as a mother.  You had the hardest and sometimes, most thankless, job in the world.  I wish you would have written a book on advice.  I would read it daily if you had.

Kristi