With my mother’s birthday coming up, I figured it was about time to write her another “Dear Mom” letter.

I know I’m supposed to be counting my blessings, but, unfortunately, I’m not in a very sweet and sentimental mood this week. I’m feeling frustrated and tired. And brutally honest.

And so, this letter is brutally honest.

Dear Mom,

Your birthday is tomorrow. You would have been 62.

I love you, and I miss you, but I’m honestly kind of mad at you.

You see, you really left me with quite a mess here.

Your illness gave me perspective and purpose but it also left me with a lot of questions and problems to sort through these last 10 plus years.

My life was consumed with your financial and care decisions through my early engagement and marriage, through pregnancies and newborns.  And, as soon as I came up for air after your passing, I began making all of these decisions again with my grandparents.

How am I supposed to deal with your parents and a toddler and a preschooler all at the same time? My stubbornness and your mother’s stubbornness and my daughters’ stubbornness all at the same time?

I didn’t sign up for this.

You were supposed to deal with this.

You were supposed to make decisions for them and be a grandmother to my little ones, too.

You were supposed to be my guardian and my protector. But instead, I became yours, at a time when I was still finding myself and trying to navigate life as an adult.

You were supposed to be my friend and my mentor, my lunch date and my shopping companion.

Now, I usually eat lunch or shop alone or with my girls. I never really liked shopping with anyone except you anyway.

I sometimes wonder what our lives would look like now if you hadn’t had early onset Alzheimer’s disease.

Maybe, things would have been better.

But maybe, things would have been worse.

Maybe, I wouldn’t be married to my best friend and mother to two beautiful little girls right now. Maybe, I wouldn’t be using my gifts.

Maybe, I wouldn’t be writing this blog and raising funds and awareness for causes like flood relief and breast cancer.

Maybe, I would still be depending on you instead of taking responsibility for myself and trying to help others each day.

I’m honestly kind of mad at you.

You were too caring. You were too nurturing.

And so, we all miss you a little too much.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

Love,

Lauren