For: Mom

For: Mom

I know you won't read something too long so I won't drag this out.

Let’s aim for a thousand words or less.

I’m not sure what I’m going to scribble on this page, I just know that there’s something I need to say, something I don’t even think I was aware of until I opened the cover to sign yet another book for you today.

For someone who is so academically brilliant and gifted as I manage to be – I somehow catch myself searching the empty wall for guidance, as if the matte blue paint might articulate my sentences for me. I suppose I’ll just begin with the point of this letter in its entirety and let it evolve on its own.

How do I tell you that I understand you, in a way that communicates the depth of that phrase? At this point in your life, you have spent more time as a mother than not. And I won't lie, it has sucked for all of us.

However, as I struggle daily with the torment from my own crotch-goblins, I look forward to the short conversations that we have in passing regardless of whether or not they are meaningful or in jest. I say this all to you, not from a place of ridicule as your frustrated daughter, but rather, from a place of enlightenment as another mother.

You struggled in many similar ways that I do now, and I don't blame you for the way you handled the varying situations throughout the last quarter-century. Sometimes, kids just don't listen unless their mom loses her sh-- well, I know I didn’t listen, at the very least, and I remember you keeping it together back then infinitely better than I could ever hope for myself in the present.

I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you. For everything. All of it. The raging, the screaming, the laughing, and every time you ever rolled your eyes hard enough to bring on a seething migraine.

This is weird that I'm saying any of this to you, isn't it? I’m pretty surprised at myself too because up until very recently, I was convinced to a degree, that I harbored hatred for you. But I see the way you carry yourself through each day without the support of your parents, and yet you still manage to function exceedingly well, and I can only imagine how I would feel if I lost my mom.

Or, maybe I can't.

The loss of a mother, it's a pain that's only felt once. A part of you died with Nana on the ides of March. At her funeral, I stood in your place to speak when the words were lost to you. I had no earthly idea what I would say to any of those people, I just knew, as I do now, that I had to say something to honor both of you.

Exactly 888 days from her passing, I watched my husband collapse and seize a dozen consecutive times when his mother died. There’s no conceivable way I could have handled that if you hadn’t helped me hold him together. You two became closer that night because you'd both felt agony that only the other one could possibly relate to.

That being said, through all of the misfortune, I truly consider myself to be the most fortunate woman to ever have walked the Earth. Simply because I was born to you, the extraordinarily indomitable mother that I have. Your emotions rise out of you with the strength of a supernova with each one that you feel, and you have never been a "perfect mom" but you are the perfect mom for me and I see you.

Interestingly enough, all I ever desired throughout my life was your approval and it seemed like that was the one thing I would never receive. I wanted so badly for so long for you to be proud of me and my accomplishments. Although, I haven't exactly accomplished as much as I should have. . . yet.

But, the pride you've shown through boasting to your customers and friends and members of our family, it's more fulfilling than the achievement of becoming a “published author” could ever be on its own.

I am exactly who I am because of you.

That may not be saying much as I’ve only just begun my career. I see the tension in your jaw as you hold my book like it weighs a ton. An ever-sinking hole of terror opens up inside of you for fear of what you’re going to find if you were to look past the page that I’ve signed.

My future became so clear.

So vivid.

So bright.

So. . . beautifully real.

The moment in time in which you told me you were proud was the moment that I let go of my inhibitions. Money and fame and status, these things will happen but they hold no candle to the satisfaction of being worthy of your recognition and pride. You trusted that I would do something incredibly special and you hadn’t ever even read any of my material. It was a leap of faith and I can never give back to you the time that you’ve sacrificed to be my mom.

But, while I am lucky enough to still have you. I want you to know that I’m sorry it took me more than twenty-six years to appreciate and understand that the struggle is real, and while things continue to get harder for us as a family, never forget that I too am proud of you. Your efforts don't go unnoticed, and I know you will continue to do incredible things because you won't accept anything less than your personal best.

As long as you believe in me, I can and will continue to pursue and conquer my endeavors.

I love you, Happy Mother’s Day.

Shelby