Dear Mama

*Warning: Contains mentions of death and grief, as well as cancer (although not explicitly mentioned)*

Dear Mama,

Happy 48th birthday. I wish that you could have been here. Lilly's learning how to walk now, and she toddles around, falling down every three steps or so and collapsing in giggles. Her hair is wispy, dark brown curls, like your hair, when you had hair. She talks a lot, not real words but mumbles and little sounds in her own made-up language. She also knows three signs in ASL, so she can sign with Anna a bit. I know you would have been the best mother to her if you were here. No- scratch that. I know you're looking down on her now- well, actually looking down on all of us- and probably enjoying everything you see.

Candace and Steven are both here for Christmas. In my last letter, I wrote about how they got married, right? I hope you enjoyed watching that from Heaven. It's going to be their first year of marriage in January, so that's exciting. Steven looks so old now, and sometimes it's hard to believe that he and Candace are only 22. He's even taller than Daddy now, if you can believe that. Candace is taller and older-looking too, and her hair is red now, a soft red colour that is almost (but not quite) the same colour as Grandma's was. Remember, when we first met her, it was bright pink? I used to wish to have my hair the same colour, just so I could be exactly like her.

Anna is doing well. In school, she's improving at lip-reading and speaking, and her teacher hopes that by spring, she'll be much better at communicating with people who are not deaf or ASL speakers. I tried to lip-read myself in the bathroom mirror, and, honestly, I don't understand how she can even figure out what people are saying half the time. I really don't know. She reads a lot still and is starting to write her own book. Everyone loves it, but I don't get it. She signed me, Maybe it's too old for you, which it definitely is not. It's about animals that start a rebellion against the ruling birds, and it literally makes no sense at all. I do know, though, that she's trying to get it published! We all hope she finds a publisher.

I've been starting to draw again over the past few months. I actually entered a contest, and I won! My winning picture was a picture of you, actually. It was you, standing in front of the apple tree that you planted in our front yard when you and Dad got married. Your hair was braided in that way you said made you look like Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games, and you were looking off beyond the borders of the paper. I imagined that you were looking at us, or Dad, or maybe the sun. I wasn't sure, but whatever it was, there was hope in your eyes.

Oliver is still playing basketball and soccer. His team (a basketball team, not a soccer team) just won the championship, actually. He's very excited. He's also gotten his own room since he's just turned thirteen, and since Dad says a teenage boy shouldn't have to share a room with his five-year-old younger brother. I definitely think Oliver agrees with him on that. He has also been playing a lot of board games, and he really loves Monopoly currently. He makes us play it every Friday night, after dinner, and he always wins. Every. Single. Time.

Speaking of Ethan, he's fine. He's getting better with ASL every day, and his fingers fumble less and less each time he signs something to Anna. Anna loves that she can really communicate with him now. He has developed a large obsession with Bluey (do you remember that show?), and sometimes runs around the house speaking in an Australian accent and barking every few words. He's teaching Lilly how to write her letters, and has appointed himself her sole teacher in all things, as, according to him, 'five is old enough to be a teachuh'. So far, he's taught her the letters L, I, Y, and E.

Dad still has us all in grief counseling with Ms Dinah. It's better than it was before, though, which is good. We mostly just eat cookies and talk about you. It's hard (still), but it's nice to get it all out- all the memories, I mean- and remember you.

Well, Daddy is fine. He misses you very much, probably even more than the rest of us, but he's glad that you're up there in Heaven with Grandma and Aunt Laurabeth and Jesus, and that you're not hurting anymore like you used to. But yesterday, when I walked into his room to find a pair of scissors, I heard him crying as he held one of your shirts. And also, I think he's really lonely without you, which makes sense. It must be pretty hard to raise six kids alone, although Grandpa and Candace and all of our neighbors and our friends from church will pitch in and help him with certain things.

Your garden is growing beautifully under Candace's care. Not as beautifully as it was when you took care of it, but it is regaining some of its former glory. She planted vegetables, fruits, and some root vegetables that she'll add to our dinners. The flowers are still there too, the beautiful marigolds and lilies and violets and- your favorites- lavender and daisies. Can you see it from up there? I hope you can, because I think (if gardens could ever feel anything) it misses you.

Well, Mama, we miss you. I miss you, and all of us miss you. But you're in a better place now, as everyone says, and I know I'll see you again eventually.

But sometimes, eventually seems so far away...

So, Mama, Happy Birthday. I wish you were here to get this card yourself, but I think you can see me writing this from Heaven, so it'll be okay.

I love you. So, so much.

Love,

your daughter,

Ellie