An Open Letter *From* My Deceased Mother

Not long ago I shared an open letter I wrote to my deceased mother. And as my latest Expressing Motherhood piece mentioned an open letter she wrote me that was read at a graduation-related event, I thought that it would be fitting this year (on her death date) to share it.

‘Dear Amy,

When you arrived on December 24th, 21 years ago, I knew you would be destined for greatness!

The doctor said, “It’s a girl, but she’s only 4 lbs and 16 1/2 inches!”

My mother said, “I cook chickens for dinner that are bigger than that!”

I said, “Her entire head fits in the palm of my hand!”

Yes, Amy, you were small, but as people say, “The best things come in small packages!”

We brought you home ten days later, nameless. I searched high and low for a name that would best suit you, to no avail. Until your brother Jesse came to the rescue and said, “I think we should call her Amy.” And so it was, you were named Amy.

Once you had the first name of Amy, how more befitting would it have been, but for me to call you ‘Amy Beth.’ And so it came to be, your name was once and for all, decided by a joint venture of your brother and me.

Now, being that you came early, a month early, that should have been a sign. Unfortunately, I was not in tune with human nature then, as I am now. But had I been, I would have known some things about you early on. As things go, not only did you mature emotionally, psychologically, and intellectually early, but also physically!

[🙄😑😖]

I remember driving in the car one day, when you were only 5 years old, and you saying to me, “Mom, will I have my period by the time I’m in college?”

Then your brother turned to you and said, “Amy, don’t worry, you’ll get it way, way, way before then.” And he was right.

Yes, you were early at that too. And yes you did get it before you started college. Way, way, way before you started college!

[Thanks, Mom 😑]

But now, as you are nearing the end of college, I must say, the things you have accomplished have definitely been filled with greatness! And I am very proud to be your mom!

Love forever and always,

Mom’

…. So, now you know. I got my blatant honesty and penchant for over-sharing from my Mama. And I’ll probably never stop, because it’s how I keep her spirit alive.

RIP Mom 💓

1/26/1952 – 9/25/2007

“House of Love”

At birth I was given the name Amy Beth. My mother would tell me from there on out that it translated to “House of Love.” It’s true; loosely translated, and in two different languages, it means something like that. But what I honestly think is most important about my name is its intended meaning.

My mother grew up in a household that was filled with anything but warmth and love. I know my grandparents, passionate Israelis who had made their way to The Valley in hopes of a better life, fought quite a bit. Mom grew used to tumult, so when she met my Dad his alcoholic and lothario tendencies were not as much of a deterrent as they should have been. And, by the time I was born, my parents were divorced. I was born into a broken home rather than a House of Love.

The small, dysfunctional family I grew up in bred mistrust. When it disbanded in 2007, I was left with a choice. Do I continue down the path of isolation because I don’t trust people, or do I make decisions that allow me to learn to trust and unconditionally love others (as well as myself)? At this exact time I can clearly remember hating my name. It seemed to mock me. I was bitter for that and so much more.

But as time went on, and I learned what true love was, I realized that by dubbing me “House of Love,” Mom shared with me the one wish she had always held so dearly in her heart: that I be given a home filled with unconditional love. And by something like the self-fulfilling prophecy (and making the choice to be happy), I have realized that my biggest goal in life is to break the chain of tumult and mistrust. I deserve better, and so does my family. I will wear my name proudly as a badge of courage to break the chain of abuse.