In the late evening of June 12th, 1966, a mother sits at her kitchen table, keeping her weekly tradition of writing alternate letters to her eldest son, and daughter-in-law. She would write her son one week, then her daughter-in-law the next, so that both would receive an equal amount of her time, attention and love.
As she writes though, one would never guess from her upbeat composition that her earthly life is rapidly drawing to a close.
She says that it’s been ages since she’s heard from this son. She writes that early that morning, she told her eldest daughter that she sensed she would hear from him soon. Later that very day, his latest letter arrived.
In her missive, the mother fills in her son on the latest news of her youngest daughter and last child – his baby sister. She describes the child’s excitement of going on another long train trip and even though it’s not outright said, one senses that the mother knows she’ll never see her youngest child ever again, not in this world anyway.
With the many years of battling one Cancer after another, the mother is now losing her hard-fought fight and in her last few months and weeks, she is filled with a great fear of what will happen to her baby girl? Her little one, who had just turned seven, not even two weeks prior to her writing this particular letter.
The thought is always on her mind: Who will look after her? What will become of her? Will people treat her right? After all, this young one needs “extra” help and not everyone will be willing, or even suited, to give it.
The mother has been given many predictions for this child’s future, ranging from bleak, to the bleakest, with a ton of “She’ll never(s)…..” The mother seems desperate to ask pretty much anyone and everyone she can think of to look after her baby girl – friends, family members, neighbours and yes, she likely even asks the mailman, the milkman, the policeman, and the fireman too.
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May 12, 2019.
Hey Mom. It’s me again – your youngest.
I really wish you hadn’t worried so much about me because I’m doing just fine. I’ve had some of the most amazing, wonderful, kind and loving people put into my life and while no earthly human could ever replace you, I know in my heart that each one of these people has been put into my life by our Lord Jesus Christ. Some of them you knew while you were with us. Others came when I needed them, and only remained while I needed them. Still others are “lifers” – in it for the long haul, but each one a very true blessing.
One of the shortest encounters I ever had was at the airport in Halifax, in March of 1983. During a four-hour stopover. For half of it, I ended up talking to a guy from Ottawa and in those few hours, I believe with all my heart that God knew I needed an empathetic ear.
An even shorter encounter happened in 1994, just two days before Christmas, at the Corner Brook hospital.
Completely unrelated to my reason for my being at the hospital, I had to make a same day decision as to whether or not to press charges against the man who had sexually assaulted me the evening before. I and an unknown woman ended up having the strangest of conversation. Her compassion centered around what she assumed was my medical situation, yet her comments and gentle questions, along with my responses (in my contemplating what to do in terms of pressing charges) fit together perfectly.
Woman: “You seem really concerned…. about the outcome.”
Me (sobbing but trying to smile) “Yeh. Yeh…. I am.)
Woman: “You have a difficult decision to make?”
Me: “Yeh…. I do.”
Woman: “You’re scared? Others may be affected?”
Me: “Yeh. (nodding and sobbing) Yes. People certainly will be affected by my decision.”
She put her had gently on mine. “You are a very strong lady. You’ll get through this.”
As I felt my tears welling up, I looked away to stop them. When I looked back toward her, she was gone.
Without speaking directly of it, gave me the strength and courage to make the extremely difficult decision to follow through with a court case.
And I’m sure you’d be happy and greatly relieved to know that I have been living the most amazing and unpredicted life. I have learned so much and I’ve been so immensely blessed to have opportunities to learn from among those I consider to be the best of the best minds, especially in Theology; and I’m still learning. I hope I always will.
I’ve also travelled and experienced things that no one ever thought I would. I’m now living in my third province, but think this one’s a keeper, for Halifax has captured my heart in a way that no other place ever has and now that Lloyd is living here too, well, that’s just the finest icing on the cake!
No, my life has not always been easy, nor is it always easy now. That’s life. My heart has more than once been completely shattered into a billion unrecognizable pieces, yet I know that our Good Lord has always been right by my side, even in the times when I couldn’t see Him there, giving me the strength and courage to move forward and to see that even from heartbreak, God will make good.
Mom, I’m about to turn 60! Wow! Who saw that one coming eh? In the past few years there’s been a few more “Wow, I didn’t see that one coming either!” – my deciding to divorce after 30 years, abuse and more, but through it all, I’ve become so much stronger and I’m actually pretty content being me now. I’m also now speaking out on such matters and doing what I can to encourage others to be everything they can be, for themselves and for others.
After my divorce, I wanted to take your maiden name. I didn’t want to have Dad’s name again. But it got too complicated because your maiden name was never my legal name. But now that Lloyd’s here, I think of it as our name – connected with him and I’m proud that we once again share the same last name.
I miss you Mom, so much, but I still feel your spirit with me every day. I think (and I hope) that I am a lot like you. As much as I physically can, I love helping people. I love making someone laugh & smile & feel better, even for a brief moment. I feel deeply. I hurt when others hurt and I get frustrated when I can’t stop their hurting. I also get hurt easily – often too easily, although I always try to put on my bravest face and best suit of armour. But I always smile whenever I think of you, (which is still daily) and inside I beam whenever someone tells me they think I’m like you, for I remember your faith in God, your trust in our Lord. I may not have known it was Him at the time, but I first saw Jesus in you – in your kindness, in your caring, in your compassion for others, in
your generosity, and perhaps most endearing – in your joyous laughter. I pray each day that others can see even just a glimmer of your likeness in me.
I love you Mom.
Until we can share that longest cup of tea ever,
Your daughter,
Gerianne
I loved reading this!
Thanks so much Deborah. I’m very glad and grateful that you enjoyed reading it. 🙂