Dear Gus,
I'd like to tell you a story about a girl. She was 12 years old when she found out her father had cancer. She remembered the whispering and the looks of pity she received from well-meaning people. Many times, she wanted to yell at them to stop whispering and staring. She believed with all her heart her father would get well again. Her father believed, too.
But he didn't. Just four months after finding out about the cancer, her father died.
The girl couldn't cry. It wasn't because she wasn't sad; she just couldn't believe it was real. Father's weren't suppose to die while girls were still growing up.
As time passed, the girl began to mark time from the landmark of her father's death. At times when she least expected it, like during a basketball game or when washing her hair, emotions would bubble to the surface and the tears would fall.
The girl grew older. At times, she tired of being the girl whose father died. At other times, she liked remembering how it was when he was still alive. Sometimes she'd dream that she could talk to him.
The girl never quit missing her father. In fact, she learned to see him in the unexpected things. A star that twinkled. A lone insect making music. A flower hidden in the undergrowth.
Over time, the girl grew up.
One day, the grown up girl was talking with her friends about lessons learned from their parents. It was then that she realized she had learned the best lesson of them all, "Never take things for granted", for she understood that everything could change in a moment. It was the greatest lesson of them all and she learned to life live to its fullest and to love with no reservations.
Her father had left the girl that gift.
Gus, I know this to be true because thirty years ago, I was that girl.
Since that day in May when I first heard about your mother and the cancer, I've had you in my thoughts. I am so sorry the world has lost your sweet mother. Learn to look for her in the little things and she'll be there. In time, you'll hurt a little less but understand that the loss will never fully go away.
And remember, despite the hurt and the loss, live life to its fullest and love with no reservations. Your mother would want that for you.
All my love,
Beth
As part of a project, I have a turn with this table and chair. They are minuscule and it was hard to come up with something creative! After several attempts that turned into a big, fat FAIL, I saw the old dictionary on the bookshelf. This dictionary was my mother's when she was in high school and I've had them since I was in the 4th grade.
