Say What You Need to Say

One of the most tragic things when losing a loved one is realizing there were things that still needed to be said that didn't get said. Some people are distraught because they didn't get to tell their loved one goodbye, but I think the expression of love during a lifetime trumps saying goodbye at the end. And if love is expressed regularly during a lifetime, the loved one knows that whether it gets said at the end or not. 

I wrote a letter to Mom a week after her diagnosis of ALS, and it was comforting for me to tell her how much I appreciated and loved her. 

July 29, 2010

Dear Momma,

Eventually, I hope I can express myself without crying, but right now I'm just not able to, and I don't want to make you feel worse. But I need to tell you some things now-- the song Say What You Need to Say by John Mayer comes to mind.

I felt like I've been drowning in grief the past few days-- I know this is a normal process, but I don't want to be that way around you. This isn't about me here, it's about you, and too often I've taken your strength for granted. And I know I don't express it often enough, but I hope you know what you mean to this family, and especially to me. We don't want to let go of you. I know everyone has to go through this at some point in their lives, but that doesn't make it any easier.

I know now how you felt about your mother and her health issues, and worrying about her, and wanting to do what you could to help her, and later how hard it was to let her go. You and Daddy have set such a good example of honoring and taking care of your parents. I'm so thankful that we've lived close to you most of our grown-up years (in spite of you telling Joy and me to live in separate towns from you-- ha! and we know why you said that). I'm so thankful that my kids and grandkids know you well and are so comfortable around you. They don't do it out of obligation-- they love to hang out with you. You were important in Van and Nessa's lives growing up, and Ness is passing that on to Audrie and Finn. I want to get a picture of Finn climbing up there on the new loveseat and sitting between you and Dad -- that just melted my heart to see that he loves you and is so comfortable with y'all. You've taught them so much, too, and given them a place they love to visit. And that goes for Trixie, too!!

Janet's mom passing so suddenly was a good wake up call for me to stop grieving so much and start appreciating the fact that you're still here with us and that I need to focus on that and treasure each moment. I've been watching too much TV and I even broke my five-game rule and played a ton of Free Cell to take my mind off what's coming, and I don't want to keep doing that. We all feel so helpless, but the material Joe sent us gave us some hope that maybe there was something we could do. Hope felt so good, and I'm going to hang onto it. I think of the lady in Nessa's church who's been at Stage 4 cancer for at least seven years now, and there she was the Sunday I visited a few weeks ago-- going down to the front of the church with her husband to pray and minister to other people. She probably drove a team to the Backyard Bible Club again like she did last year. And there you were at the Food Bank the day after your diagnosis and continuing to volunteer at the hospital and church this week. I'd probably still be in bed (my first reaction to anything traumatic) a week after a diagnosis like that. You are amazing.

You always said I was a daddy's girl, and that was true when I was young-- probably because you did the primary disciplining in the house.    : )  But I've been a momma's girl for years now. Like the kids, I love hanging around with you. I love your humor. I love your strength. I love your generous and compassionate heart. I love the example you set as a faithful and godly wife. I love that you've graciously put up with Dad's hoarding all these years. I love your cooking. I love your faithfulness to the Lord, and I know He put you in this house and church and town for this time, so I trust that He's watching out for you. I love living with you and Daddy and getting to know you better, and I love that we have the time to reminisce and record your story. I love sitting and visiting with you on the porch. I love watching the birds and flowers blooming around the house. I love that you are my mother, and that I've never doubted your love for me and the rest of the family. What a secure feeling that has been all of my life.

Our giant at this moment is ALS, and like David, we're going to face it head on with God's strength and help. I know there will still be moments of intense sadness coming, and we have our work cut out for us, but we will get through this together. And for the time God allows us, we are going to make the most of it. Just know you are so very loved by me and the rest of your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, kinfolks, and the countless friends you have made along the way.

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Don't wait until a funeral to express how you feel about someone. Let them know now.