Slow Motion

Hey Ma,

First off, and most importantly, I love and miss you.

I miss you every day. I'd give everything short of Shawn to hear you call my name one more time. And I pray every time I call your name, you hear me.

I wish this letter could be all good... but Ma, I'm lost.

And as much as it hurt to admit, for the longest time, I blamed you for it. Even after you passed away, I cursed you for leaving me without the guidance I felt needed. I felt like all of our time was wasted. And I felt like it was your fault.

I'm so sorry.

I know you tried your best to give Chrissy and me everything you had to offer. I'm sorry we always wanted more. I honestly believe that appetite is the main reason I'm lost. I know I'm blessed, but I can't find happiness in anything. The walls constantly feel like they're closing in on me. I fear my purpose in life because I don't think I'm ready. I felt like you didn't prepare me - and I was pissed for years.

But I know now it wasn't your fault.

It took me almost destroying everything I love and value to realize that I was the only one to blame. I never asked you the right question. We never had an honest conversation about you. About your decisions in life. I never really ask about your thoughts or feelings. I didn't care. I didn't know it then, but now I understand how selfish that was.

In our entire twenty-seven years together, I never once asked you if you wanted to be a parent. But I was quick to critique your work.

Again, I'm sorry.

A good friend once told me, “Never doubt how dangerous home can be.”

I got lost in the statement because that's another question I never got to ask you; what was your home life like before you had to grow up?

I only knew you as my mother, never as the person you were before. Of course, I have gotten the tales of you from people sitting around a table sharing their fondest or loving memories. But I want to know your fondest memory. Or what was your biggest dream? Greatest regret? Fears? How do you feel about life as a whole?

I spent my entire life with you and knew nothing about you. How does that happen? Why did I let it happen? All I had to do was ask one question. The problem was I never knew which one to ask. Now, I'm awoken from my sleep a million times with a million questions and million different settings to ask them in, and the only thing missing is you.

For four and a half years, I've dwelled on all those moments missed and my hubris attitude towards God and you for testing me this way. The sick irony that my first year more than a hundred miles away from you would be my last year with you still brings a painful smirk to my face.

The smack in the face life gave me as you laid on your death bed and asked my sister, "what are y'all going to do about me?" As if you knew what your last day meant for me before everyone else.

I'm so sorry that I didn't give you an answer to that question. Knowing you left this place thinking about me as one of your last worries answered a lot of my questions. It told me all I needed to know.

You love me as much as you could and taught me more than either of us knew.

Thank you, Ma.

The next time I see you, I promise I'll ask you every question I've ever thought about in our time apart and confess every emotion.

But until then, I love you and will continue trying to make you proud.

Slow motion is better than no motion in Shawn's World because you made it that way with the cheat codes you gave me.

I love and miss you, Ma.

Your Son.