Dear Moe
- by Marisa
- April 28, 2010
Well, it’s been a year. I look back and can hardly believe that we made it this long without you. A year ago, it seemed impossible that we’d make it through just one day, let alone 365 of them.
There were many times over the past year that I’ve wanted to sit down and write to you. There were times when my heart was so heavy that I could barely breathe and other times when I was so overjoyed about something that I wanted to shout from the top of our hill. There were many times that I heard a song or saw an image that made me think of you. I just never could bring myself to write about it, though.
Tonight I will write.
I want to tell you how badly my heart has been aching this past year but I know my pain is nothing compared to the pain your parents have suffered. I want to tell you how much I miss you coming here to the house but no one in this house misses you as much as Jesse does. I want to remind you of all the memories and fun times but so many of your friends have so many more memories.
I’ve tried so hard to make sense of all this. When I’m alone in the car I sometimes talk aloud to you; sometimes I even scream at you. I demand that you explain why you did this. I scold you and I cry. Most of the time I just remain confused. Most of the time I just hurt. Every once in a while, though, for just an instant, I have a moment of clarity. For just a heartbeat, I get it. I understand. And then, as quickly as that moment of understanding comes, it goes again.
I imagine that at some point I’ll be able to grasp the meaning of your actions and totally get it. At least I hope so because I don’t think I can deal with this kind of pain for the rest of my life. I can’t bear to ponder how wrong the world is without you in it. But then, you really haven’t left, have you?
I know that you are still here, watching over those you love, walking beside us and whispering in our ears. I know your body was tired and it was holding you back; your spirit is now free to love and care for those who mean the most to you. I know you’ve been here because I could feel your strength when my own was faltering. I could see you leading me when I lost my way. When my whole world was crumbling around me, you showed me a glimmer of hope and kept me going.
Even now, you’re still the same. You’re still a giant of a man with a heart big enough to hold everyone who loves you. I pray all your friends and family find you again. I hope Jesse opens his eyes and heart enough to know that you’re still here. He’s kind of lost without you. He needs to know that you haven’t left him.
Just stay nearby. Keep helping us to understand. We miss you. We love you.
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My very best to you during this difficult time, I understand it so well.. wanted to say hello, getting ready to close grammology, you were one of the first blogs I ever read.
My best,
Dorothy from grammology
grammology.com
Wow! An open letter. This is full of feelings and I can relate to it. I usually do the same things through my blogs.
Dorothy, I’m sorry to hear that you’re closing down grammology. I know how hard it is to keep a blog going. I’ve neglected all of my blogs for quite a while. I blog about things going on in my life but the things that were happening were much too stressful and not appropriate blog material.
Are you going to leave the content of grammology up? If you don’t want to pay for hosting, maybe you could open a free blog (at wordpress.com, for instance) and import your content to it. I’d hate to see so much useful information and beautiful writing just disappear.
Without understanding the purpose of life then everything seems to be just a big mess. Everyone will die. What is the cause of all death. The cause is birth. But there is something to be done during this time between birth and death.
People do not like feeling a great deal of pain, but it is not meaningless. It has a purpose. If you can understand what is going on then you will see that what is happening is perfect for you. In A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle says “Suffering has a noble purpose: the evolution of consciousness and the burning up of the ego.”
Hey Mo, I really feel for you the way you descibe how you’ve been feeling the loss of Mo. I don’t know if it will help but someone wise once said to me that the real meaning of life is not in how well you live it, but actually in the legacy and thoughts you leave with others after you’ve gone.
Seems to me for your description that Mo’s life found real meaning in the joy, support and love he brought to yours.
she then went on to say that it’s important to hold onto the good memories as you move on and fully engage withyour life from now on.
I think my gran was right and I suspect from what you say Mo would approve too.
Love and blessings,
Dave.
It is often tough to think or deal with every day business without loved ones. All you can do is remember the good times and lean on the people close to you.