All 3 of them

I was organizing my craft cabinet over the weekend. One of the best built ins I put in this house. My kids and I are always creating. Painting, coloring, clay art, friendship bracelets, you name it. After Christmas, I really needed to give it a make-over. As I was going through it, I found some notes and artwork from the kids that I set aside to put in their memory boxes. I don’t keep everything, but a handful of artwork from school, letters to Santa, notes or signs they’ve made get put in their bins. One day when they’re grown, I hope they appreciate their momma for keeping some of these special pieces.

I never want to have to display these items at their viewing, but I can say that having done it for Beckem… I am so glad I kept those things. In my head it would be adorable for his significant other to see one day, maybe as they grow a family of their own. That’s still my wish for the other 2.

As I added to their bins, I found birthday cards (with money still in them!) from my grandparents. I can’t explain my relationship with my Jamma & Jampa but it was special. I cried as I read the cards, tracing my Jamma’s handwriting that I know so well. One card was for Aves 1st Birthday and in the sweetest handwriting I know, it said “I love you lots, just like I love your mom”. Floodgates: open. So tender. Full of so much love.

It reminded me of a conversation I had on New Years with my besties. I think New Years resolutions are stupid BUT I love a vision board and I love a challenge. So, we challenged each other to check several boxes for 2024. One of the assignments I gave out was for them to write letters to their daughters and tuck them away. I, myself have slacked in that area the past couple years. I’ve had so much on my mind and so much on my plate I haven’t been doing that enough. Little notes here and there, marking funny things they’ve said but that’s it.

I thought I’d kick off their next letters here. To live forever. I have them in written form in their boxes now. I can’t commit to doing this monthly, but I can commit to doing this more often than I have been. And I challenge YOU to do the same. What greater gift for when you’re gone. If you don’t have children, write them to other loved ones. Write them to yourself. Leave your fingerprint behind.

I couldn’t for some reason muster the mental bandwidth to write a letter to Beck this week. I’ve been talking out loud to him a lot over the past few months. Writing a letter feels redundant. He knows everything I’ve been wanting to tell him lately. However, thanks to Letters to Heaven I have entire book to pull from. I’ve mentioned this book before and shared an excerpt in a previous post.

I honestly don’t know if I bought this book or it was given to me. It happened in the early days of Becks passing. It took me a while to be able to write. Grief brain is real and I had no joy in writing, reading, watching tv, it all seemed pointless. That is normal. When I finally could get my brain to collect an entire thought, I started writing letters to him. It was excruciating but also cleansing at the same time. It was an act that made me acknowledge that he was gone and the pain that came with that but it also let me put on paper my love for him, the things I never wanted to forget. I highly recommend this journal. It would be a great gift for someone grieving but also a really good tool if you feel a pull to write to your loved one. The author, Christie Lynn is on social media and puts out some great stuff on grief. You can get her book here:

https://amzn.to/47t04OG

This particular letter isn’t dated, but from the tone I can tell it was early on after his passing. The letter I chose is fitting. I’ve included a picture of it, but it might be hard to read, so let’s begin.

A Letter When I Feel Burnt Out

Dear Becky,

It probably didn’t seem this way to you in the moment, but you were always my biggest saving grace when I was feeling burnt out. I didn’t realize it either until you were gone. When I was drained, you were the helper. Even when you didn’t want to be. I think that comes with being the oldest in our household. I know that role well. When I was too exhausted to do another chore, I could count on you to help me keep order around here. As much chaos as our house is and as much of that chaos you created, you also helped me from burning all the way out. It usually looked like, running to grab something I left in the car or upstairs. Reminding me that we needed to add dog food to the list, picking up the living room when you got home from school. Now I don’t have that. Sometimes I feel bad asking for extra help now because everyone is still processing your death and it’s weird and looks different on each of us. Thank you for being my person for that. For so many things. You saved my sanity more time than you could possibly know.

Love, Mum

A Letter To My Hype Man

Dear Madds,

You’re home “sick” today. I think you’re working me over but I don’t mind. Maybe something is bothering you and you need a day to rest. I do that too. You are only 10 yet such an amazing human. You are my constant validation that I’m doing something right. I have so much respect for your resilience. You’ve endured so much pain, so much heartbreak in these past couple years. Yet you remain a beacon of light. You have days where you are down and I want to rush in and do everything for you. Instead, I see you using your tools. I see you retreat to your room and quietly play with legos sometimes. You need your alone time. I watch you pick up a baseball bat and hit into the net, like you’re swinging for the fences. I can see the release it gives you. Your sports are such a good outlet for you, you take it all and turn it into energy. We’re 3 years into our tradition of smashing pumpkins. We take them to the baseball field and whack away with bats. It’s your favorite. It’s therapy for you, for all of us. I’m glad you make sure we do it. It’s our way to say goodbye to October. The yuckiest month. You don’t always have to be so strong. As the years creep up, you’ll have new questions and new information to process. I’m here for it. It doesn’t get easier but we always have each other and can figure anything out. I admire your ability to make friends with anyone. You don’t see flaws, you see the good in people. You see the beauty in all situations. You are perpetually positive. You can’t help it. I love when you get excited telling me stories about school, about your buddies, anything. You have a beautiful innocence yet coupled with all things satire. You love making people laugh. You are so complex. As your sense of humor further develops, those complexities come together like a lovely clever web. Just. Like. You. I love watching you grow into this person. You smell like animal crackers and sugar to me. I’ve said that your whole life and it still rings true. You are the best parts of me and your dad. We are so lucky. You’re not just everyone’s favorite hype man, but you are mine. You give me so much confidence in my mothering. It’s easy to dragged down by not being a perfect mom or being able to protect you from everything bad in this world. Yet you always go out of your way to make sure I know that you love me, to compliment me, to tell me I’m the best mom ever. I know some of that is a mirror effect. I hype you up and you naturally do the same in return. I am eternally grateful to have you.

I love you so, Mom.

A Letter To My Cheeky Lady

Dear Avers,

When I was a kid I prayed the same prayer a thousand times… Lord, please give me an outgoing daughter. I was constantly fighting this shyness I had (perhaps social anxiety) and never wanted my kids to have to feel like that. And wow, was that prayer answered. You are so full of life. You were born to lead. You started reading at a stupid early age. I’m certain it’s because you saw your brothers doing it and decided you were going to be included. Same with riding a bike. You were crazy little and I was out in the front yard and out of no where, you picked up the neighbors bike, sans training wheels and started riding. No lesson. No prompting. You just decided that day, you were going to do it. That’s who you are. You are a doer. I know that trait well. A natural achiever. And when something doesn’t turn out just right, you claim it as a happy little accident. I love that about you. Your affinity for Bob Ross, much like your brother makes me smile. I love watching you create. Whether that’s on paper, a canvas, in the driveway with chalk. I love that you dance with me in the kitchen. You let me sing along with you in the car, sometimes starting the song over because it felt so good. I want you to remember that in this phase of your life, you tell all your friends how cool your mom is. You have also been through unimaginable heartbreak these past couple years. It’s not fair. You’ve had to weather storms that aren’t meant for children. You are so brave. You aren’t afraid to be vulnerable and use me as your soft place to land. Sometimes you get really sad. There are so many reasons for you to feel that way. My heart breaks when it happens at school and I’m not there to scoop you up. However we have an amazing village that understands and is there for you. Watching you use the tools you’ve added to your tool bag is bittersweet for me. I’m grateful you know how to feel your feelings and not live there but I hate that the struggle exists. I wish I could hold it all for you. I love that you ask me to do our “Golden Sunshine” meditation when you’re having a hard time. I love how we all repeat a handful of affirmations on the way to school every morning and I love when you think of one and write it in my notebook for me to use. Notebooks. You are your mothers daughter. You are only 8 and you must have a dozen notebooks full of thoughts and to-do’s, letters to your friends, doodles. I. Love. That. Never stop doing that. You can keep them as reminders of your growth or toss them as a symbol of your growth. But never stop writing. You have a way with words on paper that is witty and to the point. I am so proud of your strength, your ability to see the beauty in everything. Never stop holding my hand and giving secret squeezes. You my dear are beyond the stars. The brightest in the night sky.

I love you so, Mom