Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

I talked with Dad for a while tonight. And of course, we got to the subject of you, which then reminded me of my shopping excursion earlier to Sam’s Club–I know, very chic. Nonetheless, it was a grocery excursion along with a delightful lunch accompanied by our next door neighbor (by the way, she misses having you around to make all of the various shopping/painting/lunch trips with).
While browsing the aisles–particularly the clothes section–suddenly I began wondering what it would’ve been like to have you with me. It made me grateful that I can at least look back to the weeks before prom and your trip to Germany with the joy of happy memories in which we shopped and I was actually enjoying it for a change. You and I hadn’t shopped like that for quite some time, due to my aversion from finding out how nothing ever fits perfectly on my perfectly unique body, and the enthusiasm that comes from finding a dress that looks good on me as well as your loving encouragement to try on more and more despite my protests of exceeding the budget I had placed in my own mind really made Mission Prom Dress a lasting memory that I can hold on to as I go on future shopping missions without you.
However, that happy memory couldn’t keep the tears from flowing as I talked with Dad and for the first time considered how these last two weeks at home would have been different. We would have been having lunch together everyday. You would have taken me shopping for last college materials–clothes and supplies. We probably would have even gone painting a bunch (I haven’t gone since before you died). You would have wanted to spend as much time with me as you could, knowing I’d be moving out in a few weeks. I would probably have tried to avoid you some of the days as I tried to get a moment of space.
You might have even gone to NYC with me Wednesday and Thursday. That was an adventure, going by myself to the city to be a witness in the case against the guy who stole my other laptop in June. I got there late Wednesday night and got a taxi to my hotel (my first taxi!) and the next morning walked over to where I’d be testifying. I finished up there around 11:30 and so had the next four and a half hours to kill before getting a taxi back to the airport. Most of the time was spent at the 9-11 Memorial. I walked around outside for a bit and then spent two hours in the museum. It was the best thing ever, going to a museum alone! I didn’t have anyone to wait on or to hurry me up; I went at my own pace. Then I walked down to Battery Park and had lunch before just walking along Water St for and hour, all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s so easy to just walk and walk and walk because there’s so much to look at, even with just the buildings there. And though I was all by myself walking around, I wasn’t scared or truly worried. Joel and a friend asked if I had mace, to which I replied, “I’ve got God.” And having seen how He’s been working in my life, I just knew I’d be fine. It was wonderful!
And it makes me wonder if I’d have the same feeling of independence through dependence on Him if you were still here. Most likely, I wouldn’t have had the urge to go by myself in order to prove to myself that I could handle being on my own. Now I know I can. Granted it was only two days. But it was two days jam-packed with a bunch of adult responsibilities.
We can do it. We can live life without you, Mom. That’s what you raised us kids to do, and it’s what Dad’s learning to do as well. That was another part of our conversation: dependence on God. Dad’s increased his dependence on God, and that’s what I’ve been learning as well. It’s kind of crazy how we had you for a crutch for so long, and that wasn’t necessarily your fault. We just didn’t take hold of our faith for ourselves, rather borrowing off of yours.
Well, I’ll try to keep this letter shorter than some. But I’ll always love you!

Your daughter,
Hannah