Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

I don’t think I’ve really told you about Dad and me lately. Well, we have a phone call about once a week now, if not more. You obviously haven’t been here since I went off to school, but that has most definitely not been a norm for us. We’ve both been bad about calling. Especially since freshman year. But, we now talk often. And actually talk. Like, more than just the basic “I’m not dying, and I’m paying my rent on time” conversation.

Since this past Christmas, when I took a trip to Texas for the holiday, we’ve had conversations about what I hope to do someday with my writing and about feelings I’m processing through and even conversations in the middle of some of the more negative feelings.

I wanted to share because for a long while, I’ve really struggled with you not being here to talk to. Especially because we did start talking a lot senior year. All of those kitchen chats and conversations with me perched on your tub as you got ready for something. I was looking forward to the experience of further conversations about adulthood and adult things. Then, you weren’t here. But Dad was.

Except, for a while, it felt as though he wasn’t. And he’s Dad. He’s the one I’d go to for the practicality of things — to verify my already thought-out logic — not for the actual processing of emotions (much less, experiencing those emotions).

BUT, now I do! And it’s great! We talk. He listens and gives input (and that input is often scripture). And he tells me in the moments I feel as though I’m failing in even the most basic of things (like just being happy for one day) that he’s proud of me.

It is exciting. Whenever good or bad things happened in the past couple of years, it was usually a particular friend who I’d think of calling first. Now, it’s Dad. When I think of calling him, I’m not afraid of him not answering, because I know he’ll call me back as soon as he can. And I know that I don’t have to be afraid of talking too much or taking up too much of his time with my rambling, because we establish with each call whether or not he has time for the full story or short version.

It’s the kind of relationship I thought I’d have with you. And it makes it hurt less that I didn’t have that opportunity. I’ve even told some friends that where Dad and I are at — that I feel like we’re closer than you and I were my senior year. You would be really happy about that. You’d be really excited, too.

I still miss you, but Dad and I talk about you more and it makes it easier.

Your daughter,
Hannah