At times of loss, they never seem to be enough; but sometimes words are all we have.
I always feel a mix of pain and poignancy watching young women like Cate Edwards, who have the poise and presence of mind to deliver beautiful eulogies for their mothers.
When my mother died at 41, nothing would have come out of my mouth—other than sobs. I was 18, too shocked and immature to sense, much less express, the magnitude of what this loss would mean for the rest of my life.
And the loss of words goes both ways. Though we had no idea she was dying of cancer, my mother never left behind her own words —written or spoken— to let her 3 children know what we meant to her.
In her eulogy, Cate explained how her mother tried to do that. I can imagine Elizabeth Edwards trying to write that letter to her children over the years. I’m sure the same woman who wrote two books and thousands of words struggled with the words to say.
My children were the same age as the two youngest Edwards children when I got breast cancer; and for the next few years, I became a bit obsessed trying to send messages from the grave. There were no blogs back then; so I wrote letters and made a few videos, but expressing myself was a major challenge. Even knowing what I would have wanted my own mother to say, even as a writer who never had writer’s block in my entire life; when it mattered most, ironically I was at a loss for words.
What words can you possibly find that will fill your children with all you want and need them to know? How do you fill in the gaps of all you will miss? Homework assignments. Soccer games. Back-to-school shopping. Washing dishes. School plays. First dates. Teacher conferences. Driving lessons. College applications. What can you possibly say?
To this day I occasionally find sealed envelopes I hid in drawers. The videos have disappeared without ever being seen; because I was blessed to be there to fill in the gaps myself, to see my children grow up.
Looking back, I know they would have treasured my messages, no matter what they were; as Cate treasures her mother’s words, as I would have treasured mine. The truth is that there is no right way to express what someone means to us–yet this is a gift we all have to give— to the people we love. Doing it is as simple as what we tell our children: Use your words.
They will get the message. No matter how it’s worded. As I discovered, and I’m sure Elizabeth Edwards knew, you can’t find words anyway, for all the tomorrows. None of us know what tomorrow will bring—but we do have today.
Also posted on the Huffington Post .
Beautifully written – your kids are lucky to have such a wise mother…
For all the writing I’ve done, I haven’t ever written anything to my children to have after I’m gone. Until reading your post, it didn’t really occur to me. Sometimes I think about writing to my parents, who I am blessed still to have. Must add these to my to-do list.
Haha, that’s what I tell them! Just kidding, but seriously— thanks so much to you, Lori for your comment.
I don’t mean to suggest writing anything specific, just to make it a practice to tell people what they mean to us—while we ARE here. Other than what’s inside my sealed envelopes (which are no longer sealed but are incredibly dated and dramatic) I don’t have anything formally written up for my kids either. The LAST thing I would want is to add ANYTHING to ANYONE”s to-do list. Especially mine.
Such a beautiful post, Darryle. I shared it with everyone I know via Facebook this morning. Thank you!
I found your post through Grace’s FB post this morning. *Thank you, Grace!*
Having lost my own mother at 16 months, I have a huge fear of leaving my own children too soon, and them spending their lives looking for answers, in the same manner that I have done throughout my own life. While it is easy to shower them with love at their young ages (3 & 4), I worry about not being here for milestone moments in their lives, and moments when they just need a little motherly advice or love. I still wish I had someone to guide me along through some rough times in my life, but she’s not here. As I have struggled through alone, I know that I do not wish for my own to do the same.
Leaving notes and videos is a great idea. Thank you for sharing your own wonderful story…I am so happy for you that you have been there to fill in the gaps yourself, with a warm touch and kind voice, versus them seeing you on a screen many years later…I think you should make a collection of those videos and notes, and write a book about them, and what you went through to provide your family with YOU, even after you might have left them, physically. It really is an amazing story, what little I’ve read of it, and I am inspired to make sure my own family is left with more than fading memories.
Thank you.
My mother’s untimely death left me petrified that the same fate would befall my children. As a result, I probably traumatized the poor little things with my frequent passionate outbursts of undying love! And although we’ve all survived the ages my mother and I were when she died, I must still have unconscious fears of leaving them unprotected, un-mothered. As recently as a year ago, I had a vivid dream that I got a phone call letting me know that I only had 24 hours, and I remember constantly thinking that I was wasting precious moments trying to figure out what exactly were the most important things to do during that time, and that I was doing stupid little things instead of the important ones. I woke up utterly exhausted!
Grace, so sweet of you! Thank YOU!
I’ll add another “Thank you Grace”; so glad you found this post.
How sad that you lost your mom so early, and I totally relate to everything you said–had so many of the same worries way before having cancer. These are some of the common themes for women who lost their mothers prematurely–which I didn’t even realize until I read “Motherless DAughters” by Hope Edelman, which changed my life when I learned I wasn’t alone in my fears. Her follow up book called Motherless Mothers is about mothers who don’t have mothers—and how that changes the kind of mothers we are—and I think you’ll recognize yourself as I did. If I can find it among all my books, will be happy to send it to you.
Meanwhile if I could also find all those notes and videos, I LOVE your idea for a book. Thank you for sharing.
Ha–see previous comment about Hope Edelman’s books, which I’m sure you read—about how we motherless mothers have all traumatized our children with our own unresolved issues. Part of what I call “Uncontrollable Mothering.” l don’t think those deep rooted fears ever go away, it’s fascinating how they show up in your dreams. I probably acted out all my fears on my kids and had nothing leftover to dream about.