This isn’t a letter of me asking you for something. I am writing this letter because I need to tell you something. Or may a few somethings ,but… we’ll see how it goes as I continue to write this to you. Most of what I am about to say, are things that are often hard for me to verbally say to you.
I never could imagine what it was like to be you. From the outside looking in, though, I always wanted to know. I was curious to know how your mind operated when you could easily fix a thread on a pair of pants or why you would sometimes jump to conclusions about the smallest things. Of course, I’ll never know the ins and outs of it all but I still was eager to know.
Growing up, we clashed. We argued. We laughed. We clashed some more. In a typical mother and daughter relationship, I would like to think that it was normal. You wanted me to behave and be better than I was. I wanted to act up and hang with my “friends” seeking their attention. While I was so busy pulling away from you, I didn’t know that I was actually you. Although my talent is writing and yours are sewing and crafts, I still had you inside me. I jump to conclusions for no reason most of the times. I have an attitude when it’s necessary to have an attitude. It’s sometimes hard for me to express my emotions. But I get it all from you.
You always would tell people that I was a daddy’s girl because of the relationship I have with dad. Yes, I am. But, I always wanted to be your girl too, mom. When I got out of high school and realized that the world was bigger than Richwoods High School, I wanted to make you proud the most. When you would brag on me to your church friends, it would annoy me. However, deep inside it made me feel good to know that I was making you happy. I can’t count the times where I’m sure I made you disappointed.
As my mom, you let me get with being sneaky sometimes. Like when we would end up going shopping together, you always let me help you look for things you needed, all the while i’m tossing a few shirts or a necklace in your cart for myself. 🙂 I’d be like “Mom, this shirt is so cute!” You’ll say, “Oh yeah. That is cute!” And then I’d toss it in the cart. You’d always end up buying everything I put in there for me without a word.
As my mom, you let me get away with not doing everything for myself. When I applied to college and got accepted, they told me I had to fill out the FAFSA form. I had no clue what a FAFSA was and you kind of didn’t either. But using your intelligence, you figured it out. You’ve never attended college before and yet no one would ever know. You never needed a piece of paper to validate your position or your level of wisdom. It’s been instilled in you from the beginning. And to this day, you still complete my FAFSA form for my spoiled behind…getting a Ph.D.! I should be ashamed of myself!
As my mom, there we so many things I wanted to talk to you about when I was coming in through high school. I wanted to talk to you about boys, my first kiss, and my first heartbreak from a scrub. I wanted to talk to you about the real feelings I had about the things I was getting in trouble for. But I was too scared. I thought you would be mad at me. But you were definitely mad when I was getting in trouble. I should have swallowed the fears I shouldn’t have had and came and talked to you before things got tough.
As my mom, you’ve allowed me to call you “Dub” since I was 16-years-old without getting mad. Dub is a play off of the first letter of your name, W. It’s funny because you only really allowed you to call you mom/mama/mother and Dub. I can’t even try to call you Wanda without playing.
As my mom, I used to get upset because I rarely heard you say “I love you” to me. But me being naive, didn’t realize that your actions spoke louder than your words. You made tough decisions as a parent when it came to your children. You worked to provide for us. For me. Though you won’t admit it, you spoiled me as much as dad did. You’re happy when I’m happy. When I hurt, you hurt worse. I came to that realization when I had my miscarriage. When you found out I was pregnant, you were disappointed in me. But Mom, when I miscarried, you stayed in that bathroom with me the entire night. You held on to me when I almost passed out in there. You took me back and forth to the emergency room for the next two days after. You guided me through one of the worst times of my life. Nothing else before that mattered to me. I knew you loved me. I know you love me.
As my mom, thank you for your macaroni and cheese. And ham. And dressing. And Sweet Potato pie. And chicken. ❤ You’re the best cook hands-down.
As my mom, you worked so hard your entire life. You told me stories about working from the time you were 18 or 19-years old. You retired from your company but you are still working. You don’t know how to just sit down. You’ve done so much for so many other people that I can’t wait until you take a moment to think about you. I know it may be hard. But when you do get that real time, reflect on the greatness that is you, Dub.
I love you.
Your daughter who still wants to make you proud ❤