I am not sure how or where to begin. The truth is that there are no words that will ever come close to describing what the past few months have been like, but I feel it important to continue our story of this year in London.
On June 25, 2010, my sweet partner lost her mother, unexpectedly. Peggy was just 64.
Everything since that phone call, which came to us 2 hours after we had arrived in the south of France, has been affected by that one little moment. Our lives will never be the same. My sweet Jeri is desperately sad and I grieve with her and for her daily.
Peggy was a beautiful, thoughtful, charismatic, caring, fun, nurturing and loving woman. When I look at Jeri every morning, the old adage rings in my head. The apple does not fall far.
I wish I had the words to adequately honor her, or the strength to tell you the story of the day-to-day since she has been gone, but this experience is so personal that I cannot. All I can do is write her a letter, just as I have done so many times before… I am not sure where to send it, or how to address the envelope, but I know it will reach her.
Dear Momma,
I just wanted to write to tell you what a good job you did raising Jeri Jo. Her goodness is unmatched by anyone I have ever known and I am so grateful to you for creating her. She is perfect. And, I want you to rest now, and have some fun up in Heaven… I promise to take good care of her from here. I know you miss Jeri, and I know you love her. She misses you too.
I’m sorry that I get upset by your leaving so soon, but I can’t help it. I have so many stories I want you to tell me. I want you to come live closer to us and let me help take care of you. I want to bring you groceries and make sure you take your medicine. I want to sit at your table and eat the cookies you undoubtedly made for me. I want to hear you laugh as you reminisce about Jeri Jo’s antics. I want to keep filling your mailbox with letters. I want you to check our blog to see if we have posted anything new. I want you to be at our wedding. And I want to love you in such a way that expresses my gratitude for the gift of your daughter. Above all though, I want you back so that Jeri can call you. She needs you.
I will try hard to be your strength now and do for her what you have always done for her. I will be there for her, I will comfort her, I will give her courage to endure. I will hold her hand. I will listen. I will be grateful when she calls just to talk. I will pack her lunch, make her dinner and give her a snack before bed. I will keep all the letters and cards she has ever given me. I will shower her with gratitude. I will cherish time with her above any other gift. I will cry with her, I will laugh with her. I will love it when it snows and we stay home together for the day. I will be fiercely loyal. I will beg on the street for food before I ever let her go hungry. I will write of how I loved her before I knew her. I will decorate my heart with her accomplishments and measure my wealth by her happiness. Most importantly, I will love her and take care of her all the days of my life, just like you and I talked about.
With eternal gratitude and love,
Amy
