Just Hold My Hand

I hope you never read this letter. Not because I do not mean every word, but because I know you well and you will be mad that I have made you cry. But I cannot help it. You do not understand how your resilience has affected so many lives, including my own.

Every day for you is a battle, one that you win when you rest your head against your pillow at night. From surviving a rough childhood, an unforgiving sibling, a war-weary father; it seems any choice you made would never be right.

I remember the stories of the beatings you took at the hands of your husband. The fear you had as you adopted a child from a drug-addicted mother, fear mixed with excitement that you could give this child a better life. Your son would have never survived childhood had it not been for you.

Then a divorce, thank goodness, and life as a single mother to an angry, bipolar, troubled teenager that outweighed you and could tear your home apart in a matter of minutes. Your son's constant battles with the police, the many times in jail and prison, the detoxing, the rehabs, the drug fueled enraged rantings of a lost and tortured boy. You had to help him stand in front of judges, visited him where he was housed, made sure he had money and food, sometimes even a place to sleep. You have seen it all.

Next cancer struck you, the same cancer that took your mother away from you when you needed her the most. Not just a simple fix: years of treatment, chemo and pills, reconstruction, surgery after surgery. You have been a cancer survivor for years now, but you have been a survivor your whole life.

A bright spot is when you remarried the sweetest man and helped him raise his two small kiddos to adults. I remember the agony you both felt when you lost one of them to a horrible motorcycle accident and had to figure out a way to help take care of four small children she left behind. Watching you love those grandchildren of yours is a constant reminder of how strong you truly are.

I have kept all of this in my heart for a long time. But it came rushing to the surface last week as I stood there, my arms on your shoulders as they shook from your sobbing grief, holding you steady as we buried your surrogate mother. You said your goodbyes, wiped your tears, squared your tiny shoulders, and took my hand. That is when I realized that you have got to be the strongest woman I have ever met.

Never do you regret the choices you have made, for they have brought you here to this place. You always seek out the best in others, even when those others fight to hurt you and tear you apart. I love the way you hold my hand when we walk together. Even though I am a full-fledged adult and a foot taller than you, it takes me back to being so small and swinging the hand of my sweet aunt.

Your laughter is contagious. Your smile beams through any darkness. How do you stay so strong? How have you fought all the demons that have come to take you away from me so many times and lived?

These are all the things I wish to say to you but cannot. Not because I am not capable, but because I know what you would do. You would brush them off, tell me you are not special, remind me that others have it worse. But the others do not matter to me as you do. The others cannot see me like you do. You have always been there to fight for me, even as you have struggled through your own pain. You have been a guide, a beacon of light in my life that never wavers, never falters.

And I know, tears in my throat and an ache in my heart, that one day I will stand there and grieve your loss. I know that I will have to let go of your hand and never swing it again. I know that you are not mine forever but that will not stop me from missing you until the day I stop breathing. And I am sure you will say something like "Oh, stop crying for me. You've got them boys to take care of, get to work." You are right, as always, but that will not pull the pain from my heart.

Maybe I will tell you all this and prove to you how damn strong you really are. Let you swing your tiny little arms at me and holler about how I made you cry and ruined your makeup. I will take it. I will take every minute I get with you and love it. Just always hold my hand.