When I was pregnant, I wrote love letters to my babies. After they were born, I continued this on their birthdays, Christmas or other days that I felt I had something to share with them. Some were ushy, gushy with words of adoration. Some were letters of frustration when I felt like I was failing and flailing in the world of motherhood.
This week is my son, J.T.’s 34th birthday and the 12th year he has celebrated in heaven. Every year I write about him to celebrate his creation. I thought this year I would write a letter “TO” him.
I have written you many letters beginning when you were part of my body. I knew you would be the last soul that would share my human space. I wanted to feel every kick, every roll and every heartbeat. I continued writing to you until you passed from this world.
Today it is time for me to write you one more letter.
Thank you for the sparkle in your eye when you were born that lit my heart and frightened me at the same time. Thank you for choosing me to be your mom for the 22 years that you were given on this earth.
Thank you for the bliss of nursing you in the middle of the night when the silence was magic and the world consisted of only you and me.
Thank you for the joy of watching you dress like a little cowboy and play with imaginary friends, hit home runs and witness your daredevil skateboarding. Thank you for the laughs, the hugs and the experience of you.
Thank you for your patience with me as I stumbled through the journey of motherhood. My attempt was not always pretty, not always right and far from perfect. Thank you for understanding that being a mom is a learning process where I hold pride for the times I was successful and regret for the moments I can’t do over.
I am sorry for any moment of your life that I (or anyone else) didn’t make you feel accepted, loved or cherished. You never deserved to feel anything less than the special gift you were. You were Good Enough! You were more than that… you were extraordinary!
It took years of trying to get you to understand the correct way to live before I realized you were teaching me that there is more than one path to follow in life. You taught me that not everyone needs to follow the societal expectation of going to college, getting married, having 2.5 children, driving a minivan, owning a house and a 401K. I came to realize that if you can buy your own lunch and are happy then who am I to insist on what trail to take?
Thank you for filling my life and my home with music. When J.T. & The Basement Boys played downstairs my house shook with the vibration of joy. And when you sat alone on my patio playing your guitar and singing, my heart melted with the depth of your talent.
Thank you for your daughter. When you told me you were going to be a dad at such a young age, when you weren’t doing a great job of taking care of yourself, I was afraid for you. When you came out of the surgery room carrying that tiny bundle with the same sparkle in her eye that you had she lit my heart and freighted me at the same time. She was nine months old when we said goodbye to you. I held her tightly then and continue to do so now- grateful to have a glorious piece of you. Thank you for teaching me there are no accidents in life. Your beautiful M&M is supposed to be here because you aren’t.
Thank you for the hard lessons in patience, acceptance and forgiveness. Thank you for the wondrous lessons of joy, gratitude and love. All of which you and I must have agreed to accomplish in a space and time prior to being joined in this life. This bound us together so deeply that I felt what was happening (good and bad) in your life before you told me. Our hearts shared thoughts and a mystical silent language.
Thank you for understanding my meditation, my thoughts on the Universe, life, death and everything in between.
Thank you for our last in-person conversation when we sat in IHop eating pancakes and doodling pictures of ourselves on scrap paper. Not drawings of our outward looks but our inner souls. You were so intent when you listened to me explain how we shouldn’t look at how tall or short, how large or thin a person is – that we should look deeper at their spirit and their soul.
You laughed when I drew a star for myself and put sparkles on it because I like stars, diamonds and sparkly lights. We watched the people come in and out of the restaurant and described their souls.
The conversation was about life, God, and love. It was deep. It was strong. It was powerful. You were introspective in a way I had never felt before.
You knew. You knew you were leaving.
Thank you for the dreams, the manipulation of music, electronics and license plates that you use to send me delightful messages from the magical space you are in now. At times I feel you brush by me and stop to give me one of your unmistakable glorious hugs that only you could share – and I thank you for that.
I believe souls are joined to help us understand the value of love. My love didn’t stop on the day you left. My love has grown every day from the first moment I knew you were part of my body and continues to grow with every breath I take. The golden cord that I believe connects a mother to her infant is not severed at birth. Nor is it disconnected at death. The thread that connects my heart to yours holds strong.
The tattoo that says, “Love, J.T.” in your writing that I carry over my heart reminds me of what I always told you – we are joined at the heart.
Always have been.
Always will be.
I Love you so,
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Pennie's Life Lesson:
"Write love letters to those you care about."
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My intent in sharing this with you is to encourage you to write a letter to someone you love - whether they are alive or not.
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at:
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There is a certain magic about where I live both physically and spiritually – on the crossroads of Spirit and Brave.
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