Dear Mom,
I am sorry this is being written after Mother's Day, but that's just coincidence. I am writing this as I fly to London. Hopefully that matters, adds to enhance this letter's effect on you, and hopefully this it has an only positive effect on my writing. It would be ideal if my writing could soar as high as this vessel above and its scope could resemble my view from this window.
I was thinking recently upon myself. Micah was telling me how she thinks I act so much like Dad because of my cheesy humor. I laughed and agreed, but within their was a silent rebellion. Sure, my humor is like Dad's, but did that person think all of me had not been accounted for? What about my moral struggle and my constant desire for virtue? What of my constant preoccupation with God, Christ, and religion in general? What of my belief that
others and relationships should take priority over all else? That there is worth, more intense and worthy of sympathy and attention and love, than consider my fellow humans?
There are things that make up the great majority of who I am, and often those that do not put those first do those well, do not live up to the example you have set for me throughout my whole life. You are so virtuous, Christlike in purity, Goodness, Truth, and Beauty. These transcendentals are not embodied by you in many ways but close particularly through your moral virtue and exercise your Christian faith. Additionally, to convey those thoughts to others, and your love, your deep love for everyone. To embody these is the highest aim of any and all humans; they are considered God-like.
It's the highest compliment I can give you. Let this highest explanation I could give to anyone, least of all you. I want this letter to be heartfelt. I want to just list the clearest memories of you that my favorite and will make me single heart to melt. I want to make a simple list, ascending the needs for posh language or flair with sentiments of power.
- Curling your hair
- Being carried down the stairs and dressed half asleep.
- Our moments at St. Joseph, when we'd go back at the church.
- Wednesday nights with you as my teacher. Seeing how all the boys loved you and wished their mom was you.
- Your cakes and every single wish that you catered to every last detail, even if it would make you sick. Your unwillingness to sacrifice your love and attention for me, even if it would make you sicker.
- Your humor (especially your ghetto humor)
How anyone wants to call you and seeks your attention is consumed, my complete understanding of why—You are probably worth so much more than they offer to. A person as rare as you with the character of dignity and grace, the golden feel, the hugs, the sweet drink of the humblest in this way. People are hungry and thirsty for a person like you. Great people are so rare. You are uncommon in the best way. You are uncommon because you are gold or a diamond.
My thoughts and feelings attest that you are the strongest person I know. You are pure and weight embodied.
The feeling of guilt and acceptance of love worn free of pride that I have made you feel you are not doing enough when we see your labor, so much together. When I see how much you have to be, so so long.
The deep sadness and loss I feel worthed is merely rough; your death on my shoulders can’t sleep.
All the memories I hold your bed, your smells your mouth.
The deep fear that I’ll never meet a woman as good as you.
The great since of security I feel when I hug you on a long by you. It relieves my restless heart - It calms the roiling tides of my emotions.
The gratitude I feel that you are my Mother. That God ordained you my priestess for all eternity. That your presence and compassion have been and will continue to be felt by me forever. The feels that I could have had a mom like everyone else. It could have led an incredible medicare, sorority girl, but instead I got a Joan of Arc, How and so lucky?
In return, I’ll love you wholeheartedly though I’ll never repay the cost. Because of you, I glimpse eternity and have a faith that not all is lost.