Dear Me: The Mother Letters

In the spring of 2018 my book Dear Me: The Widow Letters was published. It is an anthology of letters written by widows to their newly-widowed selves. I asked them – “If you could send a letter back in time to your newly-widowed self – that heartbroken and overwhelmed woman – what would you say?”

The book was well received by widows and by people who wanted to get a better understanding of what a widow goes through. It was a labour of love for me, and I was so pleased with the comments I received from people saying how much it touched them.

So, a new year, a new project.

I want to publish another book along similar lines to Dear Me: The Widow Letters, but this one will be Dear Me: The Mother Letters.

I am looking for letters from women who have experienced the death of a child. I want to know “If you could send a letter back in time to your newly-bereaved self, what would you say?” Would they be words of comfort? Advice? Hope? Encouragement? Warning? All of the above and more?

If you are a bereaved mother whose loss was at least one year ago, I hope you will consider being a part of this project. Your child may have died before birth, at birth, as a child, as a youth, as an adult – they remain your child regardless of their age.

If your letter is accepted for this anthology, you will receive $50 and a copy of the book. I do not want to limit how much you write, but I am hoping that the letters will be at least 500 words. You can use your full name, your first name and last initial, or remain anonymous if you prefer. If your letter is accepted, I would like to include a picture of your child if possible and a few sentences about when and how he or she died (in general terms – illness, accident, etc.), how old you were when he or she died, and how many years into the past you are reaching.

If you are interested in contributing a letter to this anthology and/or if you have any questions, please contact me at dearme(at)sasktel.net  I would like to have all the letters by the end of 2019.

And if you know of any other women who might be interested in participating, please pass the information along to them. Thank you.

 

My Letter

I am posting the letter I wrote for my anthology Dear Me: The Widow Letters for a couple of reasons.

  • To promote the book – an ongoing self-publishing reality. If you are interested in purchasing the book, please visit my online bookstore: diannesbookstore.bigcartel.com
  • As an example of the type of letter I am seeking for my new project Dear Me: The Mother Letters. I am looking for women who have experienced the death of a child (at least one year ago), to contribute letters for this new book. I would like to have all the letters by the end of 2019. You can find more information about this project here:
    http://dianneyoung.ca/2019/01/07/dear-me-the-mother-letters/ .

C:\Users\DYoung\Desktop\Pictures\Bill Young\020B&W.JPG

Bill died in 2014 at the age of 67, after prolonged health problems. He died peacefully with Dianne and their two sons by his side. Dianne was 55 years old and they had been married for 30 years. She wrote this letter almost two years after Bill died.


Dear Me,

You had no idea that heartache could be such a literal thing, did you? Sometimes the pain is so intense it takes your breath away. I know. And your eyes never seem to stop leaking. It’s okay. Gasp. Sob.  Cry. Feel. Feel sad, feel angry, feel betrayed, feel it all. None of it is wrong. There is no right way to grieve – there is only your way. Will it get better? Eventually. But not for a long time. And though in time your heart will not feel like it is seizing up in your chest, it will never feel the same. It will always feel like a part of it is missing, because it is. Bill’s life and love was adhered to your heart, and having it yanked away leaves a scar.

It is not crazy to feel that Bill is close by, reaching out to you, whispering in your ear. You will become highly suspicious of coincidence. I like what author Emma Bull said – “Coincidence is the word we use when we can’t see the levers and pulleys.” You will remember things as you head out the door – “do you have your…?”. You will smile when just the right song comes on the radio. And you will feel his arms around you when you need it most. Believe.

You will want to talk about Bill. This will make some people uncomfortable. The first time It will silence the room. That’s not your problem. And they will get over it. People don’t mean harm. They’re just worried that you’re going to fall apart. And you might. And that’s okay, too. I’m not saying to go out of your way to bring Bill’s name into every conversation, but when something “reminds you of the time”, go ahead and say it. It will be good for you, and for them.  

Do not be afraid to ask for help. There are things you will have to do alone now, that Bill did before, or that you did together. As he became sicker, you were the brawn and he was the brains on many a project and you made a great team. Now it’s just you, but you will figure it out. You have friends. You have family. You have Youtube. It’s amazing what you can learn to do there! And if all else fails, you have the common sense to hire a professional.

What’s really exhausting is the decision making. Sorry. It just is. There is no more “What do you want to do?” “What do you think?” “Where do you want to go?” It’s all on you. If there is a good side to it at all, it’s that you no longer have to compromise about anything. You can have your way. Everyday. Every time. But it will take time before it feels like that outweighs having Bill’s opinion, but it will eventually. I hope.

Go easy on yourself. Take the time you need. From work, from activities, from obligations. And not just at the beginning. Once you go back to work, things will seem to be going fine and then WHAMO! Something (or nothing) will hit you and you’ll feel like you’re back to square one in your grieving. That’s okay. The only way to deal with it is to feel it. There is no time limit on grief. There is no “keeping your mind off it”, or at least no healthy way. Cry when you want to. Mourn when you need to. Be the understanding friend to yourself that you would be to someone else going through the same thing.

You will survive. Right now you’re wondering if you will, but you will. And you’ll go on to make important decisions for your life. Not always easy decisions, but important ones. Do not be afraid to go in new directions. You know what’s best for you. Trust me. 

Love,

Dianne

New birds #3

Not the greatest photos, but photos nonetheless.

Chestnut-capped Brush-Finch

Crimson-mantled Woodpecker

New birds #2

Golden-breasted Puffleg

Sapphire-vented Puffleg

Gray-browed Brush-Finch

White-banded Tyrannulet

Yellow-breasted Brush-Finch