“To Amy*, my Mom. To a loving mother from a sorrowful daughter 13 years too late.”
Thus began a letter I wrote full of remorse about my not having expressed more appreciation for her talents. Especially her ability to write historical stories, even make-believe stories like her Baretta** story. I could make a quick judgment about her art I knew it was good, but I knew so little about writing and took even less time to care about it.
Now that I love to write I wish I had shared more of that with her. A section from my letter to her says – “I have thought of you often during the 13 years since you were here. But I think it has always been because I wanted you to see MY accomplishments, MY family, MY home, MY yard, MY Lexus – never because I wanted to share YOUR accomplishments, YOUR genealogy, YOUR house, YOUR yard, YOUR writings, YOUR pictures. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
I destroyed the letter. I’ve learned a very humbling lesson. What good is an “I’m Sorry” when it’s too late. I don’t know what I will remember when I see her again. But I hope I will still have the opportunity in Heaven to say, “Mom, you were an amazing woman when you lived on earth.”
*Mom, about 65 years old.
**”Baretta” was a story about their dog who is telling his life’s story.