3

Dear Mom,

I'm still trying to learn to live without you being here. I'm still talking about you in the present tense. I've been having problems with that. I guess I'm not the only one, so I guess that isn't totally unheard of. It will take me months to get used to that.

I keep almost calling your cell phone. Dad had said he had wished he had given your cell to one of the aunts...but I said I'm glad he forgot it in Maine. Your number is still there and I didn't want to get a phone call from "Mom" on my cell and have it be a relative, and not you. That would seriously mess with my head and not in a good way.

I just keep thinking that you're still here. It's hard for me. It's weird, because I can say simply that I watched you die, I went to your funeral, I saw you buried. I know you're not alive anymore. I'm trying not to be in denial about it. I am entirely happy for you being in Heaven. No question about that. And I know I'm being selfish.

I'm just trying to learn to deal with things. Trying to grieve properly. How does one really, truly grieve the experience of losing a parent? I'm not sure I'm doing it the right way, but I have to at least try.

Once I feel steady enough, I'm planning on writing a new book about us. About our lives, about love and family and faith. You know where I'm going with this, right? I plan on dedicating it to you, Mom, as well as Dad. I am so thankful for both of you.

Dad and David bought me a KitchenAid mixer for my birthday. It is so awesome! You'd really like it. I plan on making David and Dad some Calzones when they come through Minneapolis sometime. The dough hook is amazingly wonderful. They were both glad that I liked my present so much, even though it wasn't what one might think of as a good birthday gift.

I'll leave off for now, because I'm done writing for today. I'll write in a few days when I might have more to say. Love you, Mom.

I love you, forever and always.

Love,
Christy