Dear Mom,
As you very well know, it has been six years since a most important April 6th, that is the day that God returned you to us. What a day that was. I often wonder how much of it you remember, and how differently you may remember it compared to the way that I do. Did you know that I was one of the first people to learn of your heart attack? I heard it from a stranger who mispronounced my name and called me from your phone to tell that they were taking you away in an ambulance. They called me because I was the most recent name in your call log. Did you know that our family was within earshot of that alarming "code blue!" ringing through the hall as doctors ran to your room to resuscitate you? Did you know every passing moment felt more unreal then the next?
I have often thought of that day and the uncertain days that followed as the day I almost lost you, but as life has gone on for us, I have come to recognize it as the day that I got to keep you.
After the doctors revived you, I was grateful and hopeful, but still unsure of whether or not you would truly come through everything. Now I imagine that since the moment the doctors revived you, God had already granted our wish for you to remain with us for a while longer, even though it took a few days for the doctors to help that happen and for us to see your recovery come to be.
Did you know that I had a Statics final the day after your heart attack? I tried to focus on my Stats textbook in the waiting room since there was little else I could do, and I prefer nearly anything over worrying. The teacher granted me an extension, but for whatever reason, I decided to decline that offer and just take the exam. I did not do well. To this day, I am not sure how much of that had to do with what was going on and how much of it had to do with my general mathematical talent, which as you know is pretty much nonexistent.
School aside, it was a difficult time. I worried about you a great deal. I also worried about the rest of our family. I used to think that I had realized all the ways you were involved in our lives, but my eyes were truly opened to our dependence upon you in your absence. There was this looming question that kept repeating itself throughout our days: who's going to do that? Who would take us to school? Who would make dinner? Who would manage Isaiah? Who would make any decisions while you were lying sick in a hospital bed and dad was staying there beside you for hours at a time, while we were resting at home or returning to school? Sometimes I felt like I was failing as your eldest child to step up and try to fill in for you in some way. You know that I am not the child who poseses all of your maternal propensity or your nurturing spirit.
These are not the most pleasant things to remember, but they are part of a greater more wonderful story. In my hour of need, I reached out in a way that I never had before. I emailed friends and classmates, and former teachers to ask for prayer, and the response was overwhelming. I wonder if I ever really told you how much people expressed their admiration and their care for you. People found other practical ways to help too, bringing meals and visiting with us or with you. Our church showed us an incredible outpouring of love as well. It just so happened that your heart attack took place on a Wednesday and the Pastor received word of it during (or perhaps before) Bible Study. The whole church prayed for you. Several church members helped our family in any way that they could. We even got to know our neighbors at that time. They came to check on us, as they had seen the ambulance pull away. They helped to get us to and from school and were just incredibly sweet to our family. Since then they have continued to be such wonderful neighbors. This was all the good that we saw come of this difficult time.
Better still, we got to see you come through your heart attack, and then your surgery, and then your recovery. God is good. And you mother, you are so strong. You continue to carry our family in a number of ways, and although those look different than they did six years ago, I want you to know that I see them, and I appreciate you, and I hope that I do not take you for granted, not even by accident. I am so grateful that you are still here with us. The older I grow, the more I admire you and wish all kinds of good things for you. I will probably never say it enough, but I love you mom. I love you so much.
Six seems like one of those incredibly ordinary numbers that never marks any kind of milestone, but I am learning more and more how much every day is such an amazing gift and by that line of thought, every year is worth celebrating. We should do something tremendous today (besides living). Also, we should take a picture together, because the last one we have is from my high school graduation seven years ago. In fact this year, we should do many tremendous things and take lots of pictures. I know that we are busy and tired, but days like this are a reminder that we have to find a way to make joyous memories today, while we still have time.
Happy Anniversary to you and your heart.
Love,
Moriah