My Confession

Dear Mama,

I started writing again!, and joined a platform that gives all types of challenges to its participants. It's fun pushing myself to write in different styles, or with different prompts, or just closing my eyes and letting my fingers fly over the keyboard like I used to do in my teenage years before that dreaded day when Writer's Block struck hard.

This platform of which I'm a part also lets you read thousands, and maybe millions, of stories from others! You can follow your favorite authors, and now even comment on stories. It's a nominal fee to participate in special challenges, and becoming a paying member earns you a bit more money per reads, but it also has a great free option.

Anyway, I'm stalling.

I need to tell you something that I've never told another soul. This is the most difficult thing my lips--or fingers--have ever uttered--or typed.

I once read a quote that went something like: always tell the truth, even if your voice shakes.

Well, sitting here in the former hair room--my new office--my voice is shaking. It seems silly now, knowing what I know, but at the time, it seemed sensible.

On the day you left this world, I wanted to leave everything behind and join you. Remember how I cried the night I left your empty house, before your move to another state? I thought it hurt back then, but I guess God was just preparing me for that day, 6 months later, when you would leave not only the state, but the world and life as we knew it.

That was the worst day of my life, Mama. Remember in those books you used to love to read, when the author described gut-wrenching sobs? They're real. They're absolutely real.

The drive back to Ohio was hard, for more reasons than one. I won't go into that here.

Leaving would've been so easy to do; after all, I had a 10-hour car ride by myself, through the heaviest of downpours for over half of the journey. It definitely would've been a much quicker departure than it took the cancer to take you away.

I was faced with the reality back when you moved out of state, that one day you would leave this world. You were my mama. And I knew that when that day came, I wouldn't be able to go on without you. I didn't care about anything else... until four months before you left us and I found out I was expecting.

My entire world changed again that day, as my doctor confirmed that I was, indeed, carrying a child. I had the entire reveal planned, but then you went and got sick and ruined my fun. I still made the announcement, just a bit differently than planned.

Two months later, my world would change for the third time on the day we welcomed your grandson into this world. God knew I needed that little boy to remain on this Earth and finish out my mission, whatever that is. Maybe I'll raise the man who will discover the cure for cancer. Maybe he'll be a pastor, a rocket scientist, a president. Or maybe my existence has or will touch someone who was in the same boat as me, and they will survive and thrive to be the next great.

He's such a bright, intelligent soul. He talks non-stop like his daddy, but he's got my analytical brain and love of books. He has such a tender heart, too. A little outgoing, but I guess we can't all be hermits, right? Ha!

I believe, down to the deepest part of my soul, that he's the reason I'm alive.

It's still hard; God knows how many tears I've cried, from grief, from frustration, from coming close to giving up. I don't get a break; there are no grandparents to send my son to for overnight visits, no daytime visits so mama gets a break. I do it all, but you keep me going too, mama. I won't let you down.