“Dear Mom”

Dear Mom,

I have spent the majority of my life missing you, despite never having the chance to really know you. We talk about you, but honestly not enough. You’re almost like this idea of a woman I have put on a pedestal in a museum, while not knowing much about you.

I’ve heard stories, I’ve seen photos, I’ve read the letter that teenaged-you wrote to old friends in beautiful handwriting that says “fuck” way too much and gossips about boys in speedos and parties. I bought a record player to listen to all your old vinyls and imagine you sitting on the floor listening to The Beatles and Teenage Head. I have your sketchbooks with me in my apartment (that’s apparently a couple of doors down from where you and Dad lived once), and that photo of you playing baseball.

Coincidentally, I go to Ryerson too, just like you did.

Not just in a maternal way, I feel connected to you. In the way I know we look identical based on old photos, and in being told we share personality traits like our creativity (and our tempers). While these things mean so much to me, I still find myself wishing for more. What would it be like to have more memories of you? Memories that extend beyond the smell of the flowers at your funeral? Who would you be if you were still alive today? Who would I be if I had your influence these past fifteen years?

I am grateful for the life that I have, so sometimes I feel guilty when I think about these things. I feel especially guilty on Mother’s Day when I am filled with both happiness and grief. I share a love for the new family in my life that never would have been there had you not passed. But I always wonder about who you really are and what it would be like to really know you. What it would have been like to have a bond with my biological mom like my friends do, whose mothers show me the love and thoughtfulness that only a mom can. I am grateful for them too.

But I hope that you’re watching. I don’t really believe that there is anything after, but I do believe you’re there. I hope that you’re proud. I hope that you’re there when I’m feeling alone, and I hope that even if it’s hard to watch, you’re there when I’m in pain. I hope that you’re there when I’m excited, and I hope that you’re there when I mess up. I hope that you’re there for Laura and Dad too.

I just wanted to say Happy Mother’s Day, and that I miss you, not just today but every day.

Love, your daughter,

Claire