Two weeks after my Mom passed, I came home to find grand piano sitting in my garage....complete with sterling silver candelabra and a giant red ribbon tied around the entire instrument. It was a gift from my then-fiance. A token of his love for me and his devotion to my dreams. The moment I saw it, I gasped...in disbelief...in sheer delight...in complete awe. How in the world could anyone do such a thing?
The moment after it registered in my brain that there really was a grand piano with my name on it, I ran out the door, down the walkway and into our kitchen, grabbing the phone and dialing the number to my parent's home. It wasn't until I heard my Dad's voice that I realized she wasn't there. I wanted, more than anything, to share this news with my mother, the woman who'd inspired me to follow my dreams and never, ever look back. When I heard Dad's voice, I hung up without saying a word. He just wouldn't get it. Besides, his wife of 40 years had just passed on and there was NO way my news was going to delight him. I hung up the phone, sat on the kitchen floor and cried. It was a moment of sheer joy...and utter grief. I had this dream, right there in my garage, and I couldn't share it with her.
That night, after I'd had a bit of time to recover from my seriously conflicting emotions, I sat at the piano and tried to remember something I knew how to play. My darling fiance was as attentive as could be and sat patiently while I stumbled across the keyboard. After what seemed to be a decade, he finally spoke. He asked me why I didn't just write it down. Why not write her a letter? Who knows where she might be right now? Just say what you want to say and give it up to the cosmos.
I must admit, the whole idea was as comforting as it was astonishing, coming from him. But it didn't take more than a minute for me to get it. He was right. I should just say what I had to say and leave it up to the cosmos to handle the rest. And so I did. I told her about the way he arranged the whole thing. How he made me leave the house, promising not to return until he called me. About how he carpeted the entire garage and put up egg cartons to make the room acoustically friendly. How he tied that big red ribbon around the piano and put a blindfold on me so I wouldn't see it until I was right in front of it. The candelabra and the champagne and the mystery of it all. I painted that picture as clear as it was...and I put it in an envelope.
The envelope read:
To My Mom c/o God Somewhere In The Cosmos ATTN: Urgent!
Just as soon as I'd finished addressing the envelope it hit me..."I wonder what the postage is to the cosmos?" And then...I laughed out loud. It was probably the FIRST time I'd laughed since my mom 'left'. But there it was. A big ol' giant, belly-rumblin', deep-down-to-the-core laugh. I put a First Class postage stamp on the envelope and dropped it in a mailbox. With a grin and a giggle, I mailed my letter to my Mom....courtesy of the cosmos.
For the next few years, every time I wanted to talk to her, I wrote a letter. I addressed the envelope the very same way, put a stamp on it, and dropped it in a mailbox. To this day I've never gotten a single one back. Don't know if anyone ever read them or just threw them in the trash. But my guess is, no matter whose hands those letters fell into, and whether they read the letters or not, there was a smile on someone's face. There was the little tickle of hope that ran through their fingers...inspiring them to wonder...even for just one moment....whether or not letter to the cosmos was deliverable.
I think that this is wonderful, Camille. My own mother passed 10 years ago and to this day, when something exciting or sad happens, I think of her immediately and then remember... Maybe I'll try this. Thank you for a very warm, touching piece!
Thank you, Judi. Yes, it's worth a try...and I tell you..it helps a LOT! Sometimes, even now after all these years, I still need to talk to her. And just writing it down somehow makes me feel that she 'hears' me. The fun part, though, is that envelope. It just makes me giggle every time I do it. Just thinking about who may see it and what may go through their mind...cracks me up every time! Anyway, thanks for the kudos (and the compliment!) Hugs~ Camille
Camille, you made cry happy tears. What a beautiful way to handle that. So far I have not lost a close family member, but I am keeping this one tucked away in my memory. Thanks for sharing and I am sure it makes someone wonder and smile :-)
Thank you, Sweet Teresa! It's always so lovely to hear your commentary. Happy to have made you cry (heeheehee)...but only so long as they're 'happy tears'! Hugs & Blessings~ Camille
Wow! wonderful expression of your emotion for your mom. That is so sweet. Though I didn't cry but I felt my emotion surging inside my heart for my mom (Today she has come to my home). I just loved your article and added to my 'favourites'.
It's a stress reliever for both, you as you write all your emotion and for the readers who get that from the box.
You know, in a way you're serving both the postal department and the post peons.
Keep on writing (both articles and letters). May God Bless you abundantly!
Dear Candles~ Your comment warms me to the bone. Thank you so much for your thoughts...and for your encouragement. It means the world to me. Blessings~ Camille
» left by sue thom from nj (93 days 19 hours ago.)
hi camille.
i'm glad to see you writing more.
my mom passed away 19 years ago, and i talk to her everyday, several times. i have a few pictures of her on my computer desk, and i look at them often. i have never, in all these years, doubted she heard me.
hi sue~ thanks for noticing (that I'm writing more). The absence was needed, on so many levels, but it feels good to be back on the keyboard again. I so understand (about you talking to your Mom)...I do the same thing. Writing the letters, however, gives me a sense of closure on some level...like it's all being 'read' by those souls who've gone elsewhere. Don't really know how to explain it...but it makes me smile. Anyway, I appreciate your input VERY much. Hugs~ Camille
Hi Camille. First off, I like the new photo. Secondly, this is a wonderful story. I talk to my mom often (she died in 1983), but never have thought of actually sending her a letter. You are correct that writing it down and sending it off offers more closure. I will have to give it a try. I was still young enough when she died (31) that I didn't have the maturity to speak to some of the difficult issues between us and they have remainded unresolved (like not wanting to give her a grandbaby). This could do the trick.
Hi Dianne~ First thanks (for the compliment on the pic!) Next....I believe if you will give this little 'practice' a try you just may find that not only will you begin to resolve some things (probably ALL of them) but you may also find great forgiveness...for your Self and your mother. Forgiveness is an amazing gift...and one we give (mostly) to ourselves...just some 'food for thought'. I wish you great joy and much forgiveness on your journey~ Camille
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