The following is another open letter to my mom.
It’s been 22 years to the date which you died of cancer. The age of 49 is much too young to ascend to the clouds of Heaven. Every year I age and creep that much closer to 49, it put a hyper focus on my life benchmarks.
Have I fulfilled my promise to you on your deathbed to live better than I had been when you were here?
Have I shown compassion and love even when it wasn’t returned?
Have I done my utmost to live a positive life?
The questions haunt my soul as I zoom up to it, I’ll be 44 in February. You’ve been gone so long, you might not remember.
Then the more lasting question… will I make it past 49? I don’t know, and won’t know until I get there.
I keep digging even in the face of adversity. I hope I make you proud. There are days, like today, I would love to be able to pick up the phone to call. You’d love the technology nowadays, Mom. I’m even typing this blog post on my mobile phone 📱
That said, I take comfort and solace that you still watch over me via the Earthbound angels you send my way. Such as today at the FedEx Kinko’s.
I’m hoping I’ve earned my ticket up to see you, if not I’m praying that I will earn it in the next 5 years 🎫
Until next time I write, which I know you can’t read …