Dear Mom e-Letter
Remembering, Celebrating, Healing

Volume 2, Issue 2
Valentine's Day without Mom
January, 2007

Dear Reader,

Two dear friends recently lost their moms. One mom lived in Texas, the other in Wyoming. I met the mom who lived in Wyoming in October, and was so inspired by her amazing spirit that I wrote an e-letter about her hands.

This woman’s spirit soared, welcoming me, her daughter’s friend. She loved life and loved others unconditionally despite the severe arthritis which savaged her hands, turned so painfully inward she could no longer feed herself.

I listened as my friend shared memories of her mother’s hands after the funeral. Despite being cruelly shaped by arthritis, her mother’s hands were as soft as baby skin. How? With Jurgen’s hand lotion.

I smiled. And told her, “My mom, too.” Mom used Jergen’s, and I hadn’t thought of that in the 16 years since Mom died. But I quickly envisioned my mom, dark hair curled, pulled back with bobby pins, wearing a shirt-waisted dress, hands softened with Jergen’s lotion.

I could smell the Jergen’s lotion. And I smiled.

A mom’s passing is a transition of remembering, celebrating, and healing with every memory, big or small. And usually small things bring the smiles, small things we took for granted, and now miss. Dear Mom: Remembering, Celebrating, Healing, is filled with my own personal moments of recalling things I once thought unimportant, but now cherish.

Both friends will face Valentine’s Day this week without their mom. I cried in the Hallmark store when I saw “Mom” cards for the first time since her death. I bawled as I realized with a chilling finality that I would never again send my mother a card telling her how much I loved her.

Moms give us so much. Our very life, our values, our sense of humor, taste in food, our desire for plastic pink flamingoes. (Apologies to my daughters!) We took those gifts for granted, and much of the journey after they die is about finding those gifts, holding them in our hearts, and claiming all the good.

Both friends will miss their mom, regardless of whether death ended pain and suffering. Life without mom is a journey of transition that takes time.

If you’re new to that journey, please take good care of yourself. If you’ve been on the “life without mom” journey for a number of years, reach out to those who are new to it, and listen as they remember the little things like hands softened by Jergen’s lotion.

For Valentine’s Day, remember a special Valentine moment with your mom. Read Chapter 7, “Happy Valentine’s Day” on page 75 in Dear Mom. And when you find yourself missing your mom, go ahead and tell her you love her anyway. I’ll bet she’s still listening.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Dee Dee