Thank You For My Life, Mom

Dear Mom,

Your time ran out before I could tell you everything that I wanted to. I never got to thank you for shaping my life into what it is today. I know that you are gone, but I like to imagine that these words will still find you somehow.

At forty-two years old, you had already raised four children into adulthood. You chose to sacrifice what should have been your child-free years to start all over again, adopting a one-year-old baby. You chose to be my voice when I was too young to speak of the neglect and harm being done to me. You wrote in my baby book, “I will fight the whole world for this precious baby,” and you did.

I don't think that I could have survived the kind of life that I would have had if you hadn't raised me as your own. I never had to experience being homeless, going hungry, or having a drunk person take their anger out on me, thanks to you.

I'm also thankful to my birth mother, for wanting a better life for me than what she could give me. It wasn't that she didn't want me. She told me that giving up her baby on that day was the hardest thing she ever did. She said that if she had to go back in time and relive that day, she could never survive it again.

I'm thankful that she let you raise me instead, and that you were willing to do so. She just wanted me to have a warm bed, a safe home, and enough food to eat. She was young, broken, and unable to provide those things back then. I had all of that, and so much more, thanks to both of you.

You also supplied me with everything that money can't buy, not just in my childhood, but for the rest of your life. You gave me ample amounts of love, acceptance, encouragement, laughs, and inspiration.

You always believed in me. In spite of my many flaws, you seemed to think that I was the best person who ever walked this earth. That kind of love is unmatched.

You taught me what unconditional love is. I know that it wasn't easy to raise a child on the autism spectrum. In the 1980's, there wasn't much awareness or tolerance for my differences. Teachers claimed that I was antisocial, painfully shy, backwards, and lacked social skills. Their words never phased you, because you only saw my strengths.

I remember all of the times I overheard you bragging about my intelligence and creativity. No word was mentioned about my meltdowns, emotional instability, or lack of friends. You knew that I was different, but you never thought that I was less.

No matter what ugly side of me you saw, you still loved me. I knew that you would never abandon me. You tolerated my meltdowns, tantrums, and lashing out with love instead of anger. Even when I made you cry, you never held it against me. You never gave up on me.

You weren't ashamed that I wasn't neurotypical. I wasn't destined to have the future that every parent envisions for their child. There would be no career, spouse, or children for me. Even as I lived alone, on disability, you were no less proud of me than if I were a neurosurgeon. You loved me for who I am, even though I would never live up to society's version of a successful adult.

I was moved to tears by the note that you left me before you died. You said that I did a good job with my life. Most people wouldn't think that, but you were well aware that life has always been more challenging for me. Simple things like paying my bills, learning how to cook, and being able to live on my own didn't come easily to me. You saw them as the big accomplishments that they really were.

Rather than dwelling on my weaknesses, you helped me to find my talents and strengths. You encouraged my writing. When I was a child, you thought that my poems were so amazing. You even put them in the church bulletin for the whole church to read. From an early age you taught me that my talent was worth sharing with others. You're the reason that I would dare to dream about winning a Vocal challenge.

Thank you for loving me like no one else ever will. I was the light of your life, not because I'm anything special, but because of how you saw me. Every time I opened your door, your face lit up with a smile that no one else has ever had for me. No matter how much pain you were in that day, that smile was always there.

You loved to hear about every detail of my life. You listened patiently as I info-dumped about my latest passion, whether it was circus history or genetic mutations. Even if my obsessions bored you to tears, you never let it show. You were just happy to be in my presence.

I was so important to you for your entire life - from the time I was a helpless, neglected 1 year old who needed you, until you were a helpless, dying 81 year old who needed me. You weren't there when I took my first breath, but I had the honor of standing next to you as you took your last. You weren't the mother who gave birth to me, but you were the mom who gave me life.

Thank you for giving me the resolve to love my life, even now that you're gone. One of the last things you said to me was, “When I'm gone, I want you to go through life with a smile on your face and love in your heart.”

Your desire for me to be happy is what carries me through the sorrow of living without you. I realized that the best way to honor your memory is to love the life that you helped me build.

Those are just a few of the things that I wish to thank you for. In short, thank you for my life, Mom. Even in death, you still inspire me to make the most of every day and to chase my dreams. I wish that you were here to see it, but I hope that I can tell you all about it someday when we meet again.

Love from your baby always,

Becca