August, 2020
A week before my birthday
Dear Mom
It’s hard to believe that it’s been 45
years since you are gone. Yet you are still with me. Your love was so strong,
so steady that I still can feel it coursing through my body and my mind. Now that’s
staying power. I look down at my hands and my nails and they look just like
yours. Sometimes I catch myself clasping my hands in front me, exactly as you
did. I used to pass the mirror and get a
glimpse of you, but I am now eight years older than you were when you passed.
I’ll never know what you would have looked like at my age. My girth has thickened
so much it surprises me when I look down. We both started out as skinny girls
and found ourselves to be padded women. Of course, the cancer certainly
whittled a lot of that away on you at the end. I am lucky that I have inherited
your complexion and skin tone. Grandma was wrong. It wasn’t the ice-cube face
wash before bed that keeps the skin beautiful. It’s genes, and probably my
natural aversion to sun tanning. Thank you for the smile, and the brown eyes
that can sometimes look soulful.
More important is what you contributed
to the inside of me. I think Roberta is
more like you in temperament that I am. I have Daddy’s quick anger, which
you’ll be happy to know has calmed down over the years, but still flashes from
time to time. Dad could tell a good joke, but it was your ability to laugh at
yourself and at life that I cherish and carry inside me. A card I bought reads: “Those who can laugh
at themselves, will never run out of things to laugh about.” You brought me up steady and responsible,
able to stand on my own.
I know you were scared for me when I
became diabetic that summer I turned 12. Hey, I’m still here. Remember the care with which you boiled the
glass syringes and metal needles, and how Mrs. O’Dowd would come next door and
help me take the shots? You’d be amazed at all the changes there are now. I am
wearing a pump, which includes a reservoir of DNA manufactured insulin, a mini computer
that calculates and delivers varying micro amounts of background insulin and
insulin for when I eat. It even communicates with a little sensor that picks up
my glucose readings every five minutes and makes adjustments. Are you overwhelmed by the technology? The
words I am using? I’m pretty amazed too.
The point is, although I am not married,
which I know is something you very much wanted for me, I am leading a good
life. It’s not extravagant, but it is good. I’ve travelled. I’ve read. I’ve
worked. I have friends and family. I
have pets you said I couldn’t have until I had a place of my own. Surprise: they are not dogs, but two luscious, loving
cats.
Most important, I am still growing and
developing. As to the question you always asked me when I nervously finished a
paper or took a test, *Did you do the best you could?”-- I was never quite sure
of my answer. Well, I am surer now. I believe I have. Thanks Mom.
Love you forever,
Marsha
P.S. My room is still messy.
August 2020
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