I would like to begin this letter with a grateful heart. It is almost winter in Australia and the chilly wind makes me miss you even more. First of all, I would like to thank you for giving birth to me. I might be late and unplanned in your life, but thank you. Thank you for choosing the difficult and complicated path of menopausal pregnancy. Thank you for choosing me despite your health conditions. Thank you for braving the odds and for the first decade of my life you were with me. Thank you for loving me nonetheless.
But how can one go on with life once they’ve lost someone so dearly? Will they cry nonstop? Have sleepless nights or wallow in agony through alcoholic drinks because of depression? I can’t help but shed tears of longing and sadness while writing this. Eighteen years? That’s almost two decades. I can still remember the last moment I saw you, me clinging on to you while they said you are gone. Gone? What was that word? I was a child and that word sounded too foreign to me. Lifeless. That’s what they said when the doctor and nurses crowded your bed. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I could see it in their eyes. That very moment, I lost you. Do you know what hurts me the most? The fact that you’ll never have the chance to hear my “I love you”.
Years passed and without me even realizing it, it’s already been 18 years. And I want to tell you that I’m already a grownup (as I believe I am). I can travel to different countries, work, study, and speak different languages too. I am independent, contrary to the clingy little girl I used to be during elementary school, the little girl who always cried whenever she couldn’t see her mother in the parent’s waiting area. Can you believe that she can now travel alone in countries that are miles away from home? The little girl who always cried whenever you weren’t around is now a grownup. She’s an adult, braving the world each day at a time.
In the span of 18 years, I can’t possibly put into words how much I miss you. I miss having a mom in my life. I miss your presence—the care, the love, and the understanding of a mom. Don’t get me wrong, they did well in raising me, but still, having someone like you makes all the difference. I can’t help but wonder how life would have turned out if you weren’t gone. But things happen for a reason. I just hope you are happy there. I always believe in the saying that losing someone is the hardest thing to accept; remembering you is easy because I do it every day, but missing you is the heartache that never goes away.
I miss you more than words can say.