To my mom, May 13

Wednesday, May 13, 1981

          Reflections:

          Now that we've been home for awhile now and things have fallen into a pattern, more or less, I am feeling somewhat more secure as a mother (I celebrated my first Mother's Day the 10th of May) and I wonder as I watch you in your sleep when a smile creeps over your face, just what it is that you could possibly be thinking about … Are you dreaming? Well, if you are, I hope they are nice dreams.
          And what went through your mind as we were passing the days in the hospital? Me in my room, you in the nursery.…

          I can recall one night in particular that the nurse was getting ready to bring you to my room for the 1:00 AM feeding. I had not been feeling well all day and I was having one of those cold sweats that sometimes hit me in the hospital, there I lay in my perspiration-soaked sheets, wanting just a few solid hours of sleep. So, I asked the nurse not to bring my baby to my room cuz I didn't feel up to nursing him. Did you feel all alone in the big nursery by yourself? Could you sense what was going on? Did you think I didn't love you? Well, I did, and I do; I felt very guilty that night. But, I also feel that when I got to have you in my room for rooming-in, well, that sort of made up for it.

Wednesday, May 13, 2026

          Reactions:

          *big breath out* I'm kinda speechless thinking about your words here again. I feel ill-fit to respond to them, as I've never been a mother. I'm a father, true, but that's different.
          I'm taken to thoughts on where you are now. They seem as mysterious to me as I'm sure these thoughts were to you then. I'm confident you're in heaven, but what must it be like. Do you dream of us? Is is all like a dream now? Or are you finally awake, and this life was the dream?

          I was a generally happy, well-balanced kid (if memory serves). I have you in large part to thank for that. I know I've expressed as much before, even when you were still here, but thanks again, Mom. I know there were times there in the final months when you probably didn't feel particularly loved. You were, and still are.

My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.