A letter for my mom in law on the 9 month anniversary of her death:
I miss you. I miss you every day.
I keep wanting to phone you and tell you about how beautifully Aidan is reading and how happy he is at school. Yesterday he gave such a lovely oral about vultures. He was so nervous, he looked me straight in the eyes and never left my gaze once the whole time. But he delivered it so well. He loved his tennis party and his new tennis racket. He’s tired though and I think he’s ready for this holiday. Yesterday after school, we filled up a bucket of water and he sat in my flower bed and made muffins. (mud balls). Him and Molly were covered in mud from tip to toe. Molls thought it was the best thing out.
Aidan started cricket a few weeks ago. He seems to be enjoying it. We got him a bat for his birthday too. He is growing by the minute and makes us laugh all the time. I still have to limit TV to an hour a day coz he’s obsessed like his Dad. Top Gear and he loves a good movie.
Molls’ teeth are growing all crooked. There are about 4 missing. She’s loving me at the moment and I think Seko is quiet jealous. May has taken out 4 polystyrene tubes out of her polyotter, so she’s half way to swimming on her own now. I think she sees you in C and K coz she gets so excited when she sees them and starts laughing and giggling.
Her birthday this year was the happiest of all her birthdays so far. I didn’t feel sad this time. I rejoiced in all she could do and never felt bereft at all she couldn’t do. We missed your phone call on the day though. When I sat down after school and after the party that afternoon and had time to reflect, I realised what was missing and it was your phone call. I missed telling you everything about the day. The cake I made her was so homemade looking, but beautiful and she loved it. I decorated the table in pinks and blues and made her a princess party dress. It had THREE bloody layers. You would have been proud.
%%$# misses you the most. She cried on the phone the other day. And **&^^ too. I miss you too. So much.
There’s no-one to bounce my fears and hopes and dreams off on about the kids. John listens to a degree. But he doesn’t listen like a girl. Doesn’t listen like you.
Anyway, I’m sure you’re bossying everyone around up there. I can actually hear you giggling like a young girl at one of Dad’s jokes. I bet he was sure glad to see you.
We miss you but this is the happiest John and I have been in so long. Your cancer sucked the life out of us for a while. But we keep thinking back to last year this time and reflect on all that we have and all that we have lost. And you’re happy now and that’s what matters most.
Thank you for all that you EVER did for me, John and the kids.