Know, Mom, that you will never know how much I love you

Dear Mom,

Hi : ) . So, first of all, Happy Mother’s Day! This is a day, the day, every year, that we set aside to appreciate our mothers – and with good reason. When I tell you this, Mom, know that I mean every word. Every single one.

I know of no mother, no person, no thing, in this universe, that is more worthy of appreciation than you. I appreciate you every, single, day, Mom. Do I believe in God? I’m not sure. Is there a God? I don’t know. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t think about God. About the what the word ‘God’ means, and how to find that meaning (if I can at all) in this life. But, if someone told me to look for God, Mom, the first place I would look is in your direction. I would look right at you. And if I didn’t find God there, I would probably just stop looking.

There have been plenty of times in the last four years when you have asked me, “What is wrong, beta?” “What are you thinking about, betu?” And more often than not, I would say something like, “Nothing.” You usually didn’t believe me, because you knew I was lying. I usually told you not to worry. Though that never stopped you from worrying. Though, you usually told me that you believed me; only to follow up with the  reassurance that if at any moment of my life I wanted to talk, you would be there to listen. Don’t worry, Mom. This time, just listen.

I usually didn’t give you the answer you wanted, Mom, because I knew something, too. I knew that knowing about my suffering, seeing it, would only make yours worse. You could say all the words you know in all the languages you speak, and your eyes would still tell me what you wanted. All you wanted, the only thing you needed. For me to be alright. For me to be happy. How could I tell you the things that I saw when I had nothing to distract me during my freshman year? How could I tell you how I lost both my self and the voice to scream for help? How could I tell you that I didn’t know what to believe? How could I tell you that I held on to love, because I was going to fall for a long time if I let go? How could I look at the grace of your love, the beauty of your person, the resilience of your soul, and do anything but try to pretend to be the same?

It’s been almost four years since that August. Almost four years. I think about you, Mom, about that night, about the days that only we know, and I do not understand. I do understand how to show you how much you deserve to be happy. I do not understand how to show you how proud I am to call myself your son. I think of the greatest people in history, Mom. I think about people that changed the world, and all the credit they get for it. I think about these people, Mom, and I cannot help but think that they would be honored to be in your company. Maybe your name will never be a household one. Maybe your memory will fade sooner than that of a president or an inventor. But, what that shows me, what that proves to me, is that greatness is not about how many people know your name. Greatness is about the people who know that you love them. Your love is your legacy, Mom. I have always known that you love me. For that alone, I am eternally grateful. But that’s just what you do, Mom – you love. And, well, know, now and forever, that I love you, too. And you deserve every bit of it, Mom. You deserve every bit of love in this thing we call life.

There are so many times, Mom, when I just wanted to give up. There are so many times when I thought about my pain, your pain, our pain, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted the feeling to stop. But, from the moment I cried on you in that miserable meeting room in that f***ing police station, I knew that to give up on me would be to give up on you. How could I give up on you, Mom? How could I give up on the one person that commands my heart as the winds do a vessel? How could I give up on the team of which I had been a part for more than 18 years? How could I give up on the person that I was crying on, the person that always has, and always will, hold me up?

There is something I need to tell you, Mom. I need to say it here so it is forever stitched in the fabric of nature. I need to say it to you, now, so you have it forever.

Thank you.

I weep, Mom. I weep as I spill these words and fill my trash bin with tissues because, Mom, there is nothing that I know to be truer. I know, Mom, that your love is in me, and I hope that you have found my love in you. What do I believe, Mom? I believe that, together, we make life better. I believe in you. I do not understand, Mom, how you have the courage to be who you are. And how you blame yourself at the same time. How dare you blame yourself for anything but love, truth and happiness? How dare you blame yourself for anything that didn’t remind someone how good this life is? Stop. Please, stop. No more. No more blame.

I do not understand, Mom,

How to thank you for what I am about to say to you – I, am, happy. I do no understand, Mom, how I did it. How we did it. But, we did it, Mom. You found me in a place where things are not supposed to be found. You are the reason, Mom, why the idea of Mother’s ‘Day’ is foolish. Mothers, mothers like you, are to be cherished every, single, day. Know, Mom, that I cherish you. That I love you more than anything in this world. And that I am happy. That, is my gift to you on this Mother’s Day, Mom. I am happy. Don’t worry. Believe me. This time, believe me, Mom.




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