Dear Mother
letter to a loved one
Dear Mother,
As I reflect on the years since our departure—and on this past year, now come to an end—I cannot help but feel that a part of me is still missing. For the first time in a long time, I thought of a moment when I held you in my arms—perhaps the last time I ever held you in my arms, for that matter—and I wept. I remember it vividly: as vivid as moonlight kissing the earth as it turns a harvest hue.
There I sat, as I always did, upon our steps, and you in the kitchen, in your proper place. You had just received grievous news of your grandmother’s passing, and oh, how I could see by the swelling in your eyes that it hurt you to know such a thing. But there you stood, strong, telling me all the motherly things: “Watch the house. Don’t forget to take out the garbage, and make sure you don’t stay out too late.” And in it all, I could see the tears swelling—the floodgates coming. And I did nothing but rise to my feet, open my arms, and welcome you into my embrace. And you welcomed me.
I cannot recall, from my great youth until that moment, ever holding you for so long. And it pains me to know that I will never feel that feeling again: a great feeling of love and protection. And here I sit, reminiscing upon that moment in quiet tears. For I wish to go back—to hold you longer, to love you, to give you a life you may never have had. But time, I have learned ruthlessly in my old age, stops for no one.
So I trudge on silently. I speak to you before I shut my eyes, and in the night sky, when the clouds clear and the stars shine bright high above, I know in my heart you are listening, watching over me. I know it is true, for I see you in my dreams—if only briefly, yet in such detail. And for however long your stay, you repeat the same lines: “I miss you. I love you so much.” And are those not the words a son wishes to hear from his mother for all time? For is it not the bosom of the maternal for which men seek quiet comfort?
I write you this to tell you the words I left unspoken, but which you knew to be true. I hope someday we are reunited—in this life, in the afterlife, or in another life. May you be my mother time and time again, for eternity to come. For in any life, I would have it no other way.
From your beloved son,
Rain