Status: Done :)
Letters to Tammy
Letter 5
I thought going back home would be a nightmare Tams, but it wasn't. It was almost like being with you again, not by much, but almost. I could hear your laughter clearly in those hallways; see your smile in the reflection of the sun in your old bedroom. It helped me to remember the good times we had and for brief moments the pain drift into the background. I allowed myself to smile a lot this weekend, it was a foreign feeling and yet I forgot how nice it could be. The parents were delighted to see me; they threw their arms around me and wept in delight. I cried too, I didn't realize how much I missed them until I saw them at the airport.
I had almost forgotten how much you looked like mother, the same auburn and gray eyes. She has aged so much since I last saw her, at your funeral. Gray hairs have bloomed, winkles have become prominent. Father has become so thin, his face was gaunt and my heart ached when I saw him. He was hunched over, the burden of your death weighing down on his body. Mom had aged too, she had mother’s hand in hers, and they looked like an older version of us. One we will never get the opportunity to be. Dad stood by Father’s side, talking about sports and their wives as they always have.
I remember it was you, Tammy, who decided to distinguish our parents in this way. We were six and you kept getting angry when I would say things like ‘your mom and dad’ or ‘my mom and dad’. You said you didn't want me to think your parents weren't mine too. ‘Call them mother and father.’ You said with a proud smile. You said you would do the same, they would be mother and father, mom and dad would be our other parents. Can you believe that 21 years later it’s still the same? They are still mother and father, mom and dad like nothing changed, even though everything did.
When we got home Tammy, it was the same as it’s always been. Our first floor was still bright yellow, with hues of sky blue for the summer sky. The couches still managed to be a pristine white after all these years. Drawing that you and I had created in our younger years were still on the fridge. Up the staircase were still frames worth of family portraits, prom pictures, graduations, with the same empty spaces for the weddings and grand kids, as they always told us. I paused at those empty spaces realizing that just as abruptly as you life ended so would you place here on this wall. I ran my fingers on the cream wall paper and cried silently for the wedding pictures and grand kids that mother and father would never see.
Mother, mom and I cooked dinner and we ate as a family. No one mentioned that your seat was so obviously bare. We just spoke louder as if it would cover up the silence you left in your wake. What a bitter sweet moment, being with the ones I love, without the love whom I love most. The next night, we shared stories about you, we laughed, we cried, and we loved you more than ever in those moments. In those moments you were alive in our memory of you. I told them about the time we played hooky, they laughed at our idea of being rebels. Then mother admitted that she saw us in the mall that day, we stood out like sore thumbs, in our sailor moon costumes. She saw my hand in Claude’s and you twirling around us laughing while your hair flowed about. She didn't see the harm in us not being at school, so she watched for a while at a distant. I was so shocked and laughed so hard, we had been so scared what they would say if found out. Well now I know that they have always known.
I wish you would have been here to find out too, you would have laughed as hard as I did. You would have delighted that even in those moments we were in the safety of Mother's loving gaze. I slept in your room, when our parents fell asleep; I sneaked into your bed. It held a faint scent of you that somehow still clung to the sheets despite the numerous cleanings. I cried softly into your pillow, as I have many others night when we had lived here. The only difference is you weren't here to stroke my hair and soothe me.
It was a hard weekend, but worth it. I feel like I coped a bit more with you loss. Being home without you really made it hit home. The reality of the loss hit me like a ton of bricks but our family was there to soften the blow. I was grateful for them so much in that moment. Leaving home was harder than I thought it would be. The comfort of the love I found there was a protection against my pain. I didn't want to come back to this empty lonely place thousands of miles the places you had once called home. I thought you should know that father, will make it, I am sure of it. Mother said my visit was the first time he has smiled since your death. That alone made me feel good about my decision to visit them. His smile made the whole trip worth it. I want you to know there was not one moment that I didn't miss you, that I didn't notice your absence.
I am home safely Tammy. I am lying in my own empty bed, missing the warmth of our home. I miss you so much Tammy, so so so so much.
Missing you,
Sammy
I had almost forgotten how much you looked like mother, the same auburn and gray eyes. She has aged so much since I last saw her, at your funeral. Gray hairs have bloomed, winkles have become prominent. Father has become so thin, his face was gaunt and my heart ached when I saw him. He was hunched over, the burden of your death weighing down on his body. Mom had aged too, she had mother’s hand in hers, and they looked like an older version of us. One we will never get the opportunity to be. Dad stood by Father’s side, talking about sports and their wives as they always have.
I remember it was you, Tammy, who decided to distinguish our parents in this way. We were six and you kept getting angry when I would say things like ‘your mom and dad’ or ‘my mom and dad’. You said you didn't want me to think your parents weren't mine too. ‘Call them mother and father.’ You said with a proud smile. You said you would do the same, they would be mother and father, mom and dad would be our other parents. Can you believe that 21 years later it’s still the same? They are still mother and father, mom and dad like nothing changed, even though everything did.
When we got home Tammy, it was the same as it’s always been. Our first floor was still bright yellow, with hues of sky blue for the summer sky. The couches still managed to be a pristine white after all these years. Drawing that you and I had created in our younger years were still on the fridge. Up the staircase were still frames worth of family portraits, prom pictures, graduations, with the same empty spaces for the weddings and grand kids, as they always told us. I paused at those empty spaces realizing that just as abruptly as you life ended so would you place here on this wall. I ran my fingers on the cream wall paper and cried silently for the wedding pictures and grand kids that mother and father would never see.
Mother, mom and I cooked dinner and we ate as a family. No one mentioned that your seat was so obviously bare. We just spoke louder as if it would cover up the silence you left in your wake. What a bitter sweet moment, being with the ones I love, without the love whom I love most. The next night, we shared stories about you, we laughed, we cried, and we loved you more than ever in those moments. In those moments you were alive in our memory of you. I told them about the time we played hooky, they laughed at our idea of being rebels. Then mother admitted that she saw us in the mall that day, we stood out like sore thumbs, in our sailor moon costumes. She saw my hand in Claude’s and you twirling around us laughing while your hair flowed about. She didn't see the harm in us not being at school, so she watched for a while at a distant. I was so shocked and laughed so hard, we had been so scared what they would say if found out. Well now I know that they have always known.
I wish you would have been here to find out too, you would have laughed as hard as I did. You would have delighted that even in those moments we were in the safety of Mother's loving gaze. I slept in your room, when our parents fell asleep; I sneaked into your bed. It held a faint scent of you that somehow still clung to the sheets despite the numerous cleanings. I cried softly into your pillow, as I have many others night when we had lived here. The only difference is you weren't here to stroke my hair and soothe me.
It was a hard weekend, but worth it. I feel like I coped a bit more with you loss. Being home without you really made it hit home. The reality of the loss hit me like a ton of bricks but our family was there to soften the blow. I was grateful for them so much in that moment. Leaving home was harder than I thought it would be. The comfort of the love I found there was a protection against my pain. I didn't want to come back to this empty lonely place thousands of miles the places you had once called home. I thought you should know that father, will make it, I am sure of it. Mother said my visit was the first time he has smiled since your death. That alone made me feel good about my decision to visit them. His smile made the whole trip worth it. I want you to know there was not one moment that I didn't miss you, that I didn't notice your absence.
I am home safely Tammy. I am lying in my own empty bed, missing the warmth of our home. I miss you so much Tammy, so so so so much.
Missing you,
Sammy