A letter sent to heaven

Dear Mom,

Today is your 7th birthday in heaven. It's so hard to believe that I've lived nearly 7 years without you . . . without hearing your infamous "Good morning, Sunshine", without going to a yard sale with you, without eating your amazing pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, without sharing so many stories about your grandbabies with you. There's so many things I wish you could be a part of, but even though I know you can't be here with us physically, the rain always comes and so I know you are never as far away as it feels.

Oh, how I wish you were here to see these grandbabies of yours. I'm pretty sure they would have you wrapped around their finger (you know like the time you drove circles in the parking lot with Peyton when she was a baby so she wouldn't cry -even though you never did that with any of your own 8 kiddos). I wish you could see Peyton doing her beloved gymnastics. She is so dedicated and so focused-I know you would be her #1 fan (next to her momma and daddy). Parker has grown into quite the little jokester who loves animals of any kind. He would certainly be your bird watching pal! And then there's Preston . . . sweet Preston who you never got to meet . . . he is my devil child whom I know would make you laugh so hard. You would never believe some of his antics, like just last week when he stacked a dining chair and two little kid chairs to make stair steps to reach the vitamins on top of the fridge.

Mostly, Mom, I just want you to know how blessed I feel to have had you as my momma. In the years since you went to heaven, I've realized just how different we were. Not every daughter has a mom she could count on to save her wedding cake from crashing before the reception ever started, nor a mom she could call at 4 in the morning because her firstborn is running a 103 fever. Not every daughter talks to her mom daily on the phone . . . oh how many times I picked up that phone to call you in the months after you died before I realized it wouldn't be your voice I heard on the other end of the line.

As I raise these kiddos of my own, I realize so much more then I ever knew about you. Thank you for loving me when at times I know I didn't deserve it. Thank you for always making me a priority. Thank you for running me everywhere and making sure I had everything I needed. Thank you for making and standing by those choices that I know I challenged (like the not getting to date until I was 16) because even then I didn't think so back then; Momma really does know best. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be a good person-to work hard, to think of others first, to never give up on what your heart wants. Everything I am today is because of what you taught me.

For what it's worth, I spent months blaming myself for not getting home soon enough to save you, to spend just one more minute here on this earth with you, to tell you just one more time how very much I love and adore you. I still have the cans of tomato soup you asked for that day . . . it made the move from the little house to the new one 5 years ago. I guess it serves as a reminder that although I failed to help you that day, I didn't totally fail as your daughter. I hope you felt my love as you made your way to Jesus' arms that day and that you continue to feel it everyday. Thank you for sending the rain as a constant reminder that you are here with me . . . I can never explain the peace that comes during those moments. I love you and miss you so so much, but know I will see your face and hear "Good Morning, Sunshine" as you wrap me in your loving arms again one day in heaven.

Forever your sunshine,
Kel