Letters from A Son: Dear Mom 6/10/20

I know it has been a while since my last letter to you. So much has happened and I’m not sure if I know exactly where to begin.
I’m not even sure if you would believe me if I told you, but anyway, here it goes, Mom.
Are you ready?
I’m not sure if you get the news where you live but life has been interesting down here to say the least. 

First, there was a pandemic. Then they closed the world. Someone said there was a shot they were going to cancel summer this year but it seems things are starting to open up.
I look around and think to myself that life is not supposed to be this way. Sometimes I shake my head because it’s hard to believe any of this is actually real. But it is.

I look at all the arguing and realize that no one talks anymore. Everything is a heated debate and no one wants to lose.
You’re either on one side of an argument or the other.

There’s a war going on right now. Then again, there’s been this same war for as long as I can remember.
People hate each other. I’m not always sure why. I’m not always sure why people can’t agree to disagree.
People want to fight and argue, meanwhile, it’s like the entire world is in the middle of this big, ugly divorce and millions of us children are looking around and wondering why Mom and Dad can’t get along anymore and which side should we take.

There’s been a terrible thing that happened. Race played a part in this but someone told me the fights aren’t about race.
They told me the fight is about power. So now they want to take power away from one party and place it to another.

As a kid, I remember seeing the graffiti on the wall behind the Pathmark shopping center. It said, “Who watched the watchmen?”
Good question.
The one thing I’ve learned is absolute power corrupts absolutely. It doesn’t matter where you come from, what God you pray to, or what color your skin is, absolute power corrupts absolutely. The same can be said about fame, popularity, money, and status.

I’ve seen this with my own eyes. Bad people come in all colors, shapes, and sizes. Good people come the same way.
I think the problem is we judge people way too much on the basis of looks instead of the substance of their merit.
We all screw up though. I know I do. Sometimes the screw up is unfixable. And I get that, but is it right to blame everyone based on a certain relation?

Truth is I’m scared to see what will come next. The world is a crazy place, Mom. Another truth is I’m angry. I’m hurt and I’m tired.
The truth is nothing goes back to normal after it’s been crumpled and beaten, which is how things are now.

I have to say it would be nice if you were around.
It would be nice to hear what you had to say.
So much has happened.
There are things I wish you could have seen. And it’s not been easy lately — the writing has been tough, the getting up early, the going out, and the showing up has not been easy because the surroundings are not too promising.

I’ve been able to give myself projects. I’ve been following through and keeping up.
I picked up a column for a labor publication. This is not really what I want to write about but hey, at least this gives me exposure.

I haven’t been anywhere near the old neighborhood in awhile. And I’d like to go. I’d like to drive past the old house.
I’d like to take a trip to the beach at Point Lookout. I’d like to see what they’ve done with the library on Front Street. I’d like to see some of the old places we used to eat at.

It’s Wednesday here on Project Earth. Sometimes I feel like a magician that’s always rehearsing to pull of his trick. I have glimpses of hope and suggestions of promise, but at the same time, I haven’t been invited to the big show yet.

It’s hard when life gets in the way of plans.
Then again, who am I telling?
Life got in the way of your plans too.
I’m sure if you were here, you’d probably tell me, “Nobody ever promised you a rose garden, kid.”

I’m sure if you were here, you would probably tell me to “Keep going,” and this would make sense coming from you.
For some reason it almost seems like an insult when others tell me what you would say. I suppose the insulting part is I don’t want to hear it from them. The truth is I want to hear this from you.

I don’t like when people come along and tell me what you would say or how you would feel if you were around to see me. And I know they mean well, Mom.
Deep down, I know they do.
I also understand grieving is a process that is unique to everyone. I grieve my way and others grieve theirs, which is fine.
It’s okay not to be okay sometimes. I know this and I say it all the time.

I think people are always trying to find the right thing to say. Although I’m sure people mean well, I think people look to say things for selfish reasons. Meanwhile, sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all. Sometimes words have a way of defying our intentions and molesting a much needed silence.
And it’s okay to be quiet.
Sometimes, just being there is enough. I think people forget there is no such thing as the right thing to say. Maybe this is why people fight so much. They’re afraid to be wrong.

I know that I don’t know much, Mom.
For now, I’m just a magician in rehearsal and looking for the chance to pull off my trick.
Maybe things will be easier when I find the magic words.
“Abracadabra,” doesn’t seem to work as well as it used to.

I guess I’ll just have to keep practicing until then, huh?

I miss you Mom.
Hard to believe it’s been five years today. Of course someone will come around to tell me how proud you are of me.
Of course someone will come along and try to find the right words to say. The truth is there are no right words. Not when it comes to something like this.
The only right words that would help me right now would have to come from you.
I suppose I’ll have to look for your voice today since I can’t hear it.

Send a message if you can.
I would really appreciate it…

I love you

Your son,


One thought on “Letters from A Son: Dear Mom 6/10/20

  1. Tolerance and realising each heart is unique..noonr deserves to be told how or how not to grieve how it how not to live..all the arguing gets to me too. My Mum passed in 2017 but she talks to me all if the time. How blessed were we to have our Mums?

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