I Did It, Mom
It happened. Finally.
There were a handful of things that you built your life around. Besides shopping, and Lifetime Television, and rice pudding… You got to marry off two of your daughters before getting sick. You got to see me become a rabbi before you began treatment.
You left this world knowing that you had raised two children, had built a massive family of in-laws and step children and an ex-husband and so many others who were tied together because of you.
And I think you also left wondering whether I would ever settle down. Whether I would find the woman I loved and actually find the courage to ask her to spend her life with me.
And she said yes.
I will never get over the regret I feel that you two never met. But you were too sick by then. It would not have been fair to you and who you were. So you had to settle for Facebook “friends.”
But you knew that she was incredible.
You were the first one to know that Dallas was where I should go, where I should bring my work and build my life. You knew it before I did. You didn’t know that I was going to find my match here, a woman who I could not be more fortunate and blessed to now call my fiancé. A blonde, at that!
She’s so much like you, mom. She’s a fundraiser, yes. And she’s also beautiful, and the sweetest, kindest soul in the world. She loves your family, and spends so many of her days madly in love with the bonds of love that you built. She’s stubborn, and strong-willed, just like you.
She would make you unbelievably proud. She works so hard to keep your memory alive, to be all that you would expect of her, to carry on your legacy for me and for all our family.
I’m so sorry that, Friday night, we couldn’t call you. You were the one person who would have enjoyed that call the most.
But I feel you smiling. I feel you and your joy and your excitement for everything that is to come. I just wish I could see it too. I would give anything for that.
When you were dying, when it was too late, and you knew the end was coming, you asked my dad, “Will the kids be ok?”
I’m not going to lie. It’s been an awful year. Your absence leaves a hole that I don’t know we’ll ever begin to fill. There are days when I think I’m ok, and then, the next, or the one after that, it all comes crashing back down. I miss you so much. I always will.
But today, mom, for the first time in a year, only three days before we mark your yahrtzeit, I finally know the answer to your question.
I miss you so much mom, so so much. But I found Danielle.
And I am going to be alright.