Letters to My Mom

Today is the 6^th anniversary of my mom’s passing.

With her acutely on my radar, I not only had one of her favorite snacks yesterday of sour cream with bananas and blueberries, but I set aside time to read through letters that she and I had written to one another.  

I also read a ton of poems she wrote for me, as she did for others in her orbit whenever we had a birthday, wedding anniversary, or any other milestone event. Getting her pretty notecards and stationery was always fun for me and a welcomed gift for her, as she liked to present her sentiments of love, pride, and support on quality paper fit for the occasion, which made us all feel special.

There was a period of time, however, when I was in my 20s, that she and I were not in simpatico – even though you’d never know by her poetry – and it made me so sad. I wanted the rift between us to disappear, but I didn’t know how to make that happen, since just wishing it away wasn’t working.

I did, however, think it best to tell her how I felt rather than keep it to myself, in a gentle manner much like the tone of our overall relationship. I was hopeful that once I aired my grievances and she responded, that we could move forward.   

To broach the topic with my mom initially, I had to figure out how to communicate with her: pen and paper, a phone call, or in person? These were my choices in the 1980s, before text and email were the most efficient options.    

I chose the letter-writing route so that I could get her full attention, since I didn’t know if I’d have it otherwise, in light of the harried lives they led solving all the ails of the world.

Upon rereading the first letter of what became an ongoing exchange that lasted for months, I was happy to see that I took the first few paragraphs to tell her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, and how much I wanted us to resolve the problem. This letter was 4 pages, written in my best handwriting on pretty paper that I too enjoyed using for my most important communication. 

The first round of this back-and-forth with her spanned a few weeks, as it took time for me to step back and compose my thoughts, which then took a couple days of writing and rewriting to get just right (and legible); to take the letter to the mailbox; and a few days to make its way into my mom’s mailbox. By the time I got her letter back, I could see from the postmark that it was some 15-20 days after I made the decision to write to her.     

The discord between us over this matter was never fully put to rest, but at least we understood each other more than before we started the conversation, our relationship was still intact and we were, in fact, able to move on. 

In today’s world, my kids and I often use text and/or email when we have a sensitive/emotional issue that needs to be worked out, but I have at times regretted this, as quickly typed words have the propensity to turn up the heat instead of cool it down, as well as put the relationship at risk.    

When I see that happening, I follow up with a phone call to try to control the damage that just occurred from the texting. 

This is not a good scenario and makes me wonder whether digital communication is a positive or negative when it comes to relationships.

As I look back, I am appreciative of the fact that my mom responded to my letter(s) with thought and sensitivity, on formal paper that demonstrated she heard me and was taking my feelings seriously, even if she disagreed. 

I am also appreciative that all my contact with her during the last years of her life were conducted in person or over the phone (other than her poetry), as smart phones and computers weren’t in her wheelhouse. 

It not only allowed us to keep misunderstandings to a minimum, but it gave me the added benefit of always feeling her love and hearing the soothing sound of her voice.